During the last public holiday long-weekend, I got the chance to visit the Ballarat Antiques Fair. Two hours’ drive outside of town was rewarded with two venues to visit, and dozens of stalls to peruse! A lot of the stuff on offer was fascinating, a great deal of it was extremely expensive ($1,200 for a silver card-case?), and all of it was very beautiful.
The fair had everything. Antique radios, inkwells, pocketwatches, watch chains, rings, silverware, carriage clocks, ceramics, a Victorian-era pudding-basin (why not?), posters, maps, jewelry and even some vintage clothing. But the item that I walked away from the fair with was a tiny little brass antique, small enough to fit into my pocket – and it’s adorable!
A Victorian-era Brass Pen-Cleaner
And here it is!
Made of brass, and filled with…most likely plaster…and topped with a stiff-bristled brush, this Victorian-era paperweight-and-pen-cleaner dates to around 1890-1910. At one time, fuzzy little devices like these could be found on well-appointed desktops all over the world, but while most people today will still know what an inkwell, a pen-tray, a letter-rack or stamp-box are for, and would recognise most of them in sight – the purpose of the pen-cleaner or ‘nib-wiper’, as they’re also called – has been largely lost from the public imagination of what constitutes a well-stocked Victorian-era desk.
What is a Pen Cleaner For?
Along with string-caddies, stamp-moisteners and blotter-pads, pen-cleaners were yet another desktop staple that used to be found on every well-appointed desk back in Victorian times. Their purpose was to remove the excess, or leftover ink from the nib of your pen. This saved you from fishing around for tissues or paper-towels, saving time, and reducing waste.
In the 1800s, the rise of the mass-produced, punch-pressed steel dip-pen made writing much easier and cheaper. Pens could be easily purchased in boxes of dozens each, which would last for weeks between uses. However, to make the pens so cheap, the steel that was used in their manufacture was usually cheap, brittle and prone to rusting. Constant contact with water-based ink caused the nibs to rust easily. In order to prolong the usefulness of their pens, writers had to keep their pens dry and clean between uses.
It’s for this reason that pen-wipers or pen-cleaners were invented. They were a simple, convenient way to remove the ink from the tip of your pen after writing, to stop the pen from rusting, if it had been used hard, and put away wet – since putting away a wet pen would literally cause it to start rusting.
Pen-cleaners ranged from the mundane to the fantastical. Cheap versions could easily be made from scrap cloth, more elaborate ones could be made of brass, or even silver. They came in all kinds of styles – chairs, boxes, animals…they were circular, rectangular…they came as part of desk-sets, along with inkwells and blotters…and their sole function was to remove ink from the tip of your pen.
In the 1890s and 1900s, with the rise of the fountain pen, pen-cleaners remained a popular desktop accessory, since they could still be used to wipe away the excess ink from the nib and feed of a pen, once it had been refilled in an inkwell. Again, this reduced, or even entirely eliminated the need – to find tissues to clean the pen.
Why Did I Buy It?
For one, it was very cheap. For two, it was in good condition, and for three, I’ve always wanted one!
I love collecting weird, whimsical, obscure antiques. Antiques which come with a story, or which require an explanation of some kind. It makes them more interesting if it’s not immediately obvious what they are.
Yet another reason why I bought it was because I’d been chasing after one of these for years, and I was thrilled to finally lay my hands on one. On top of that, I knew that it’d get a lot of good use out of me, and me, out of it, because of my daily use of fountain pens. I still need something to clean my nibs on, after all!
What Happened to Pen-Cleaners?
Pen-cleaners died out in the second half of the 1900s when people started using ballpoint pens. Like rocker-blotters and inkwells, all these other accessories were no-longer required to maintain or use a ballpoint pen, and so the pen-cleaner also saw a decline in use, until they eventually just faded into obscurity. There is a growing community of fountain pen collectors and users in the world today, though, so who knows? Perhaps the pen-cleaner might be due a revival, as a green, and convenient way to clean ink off of pen-nibs, without wasting so much paper?
Once upon a time, it was a common cry across the fairgrounds and carnivals of the world! A suited man in a top-hat and cane, bellowing through a big, shiny brass horn:
“Roll up! Roll up! Ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls! Come on, come all! See the Fat Boy, the Crab Family, the Lion Boy and the smallest man in the world! See the Elephant Man and the Limbless Wonder, the Rubber Man and the Teen Titan! Pay only a penny to gawp and ogle at these wonders of human perversion!”
But what was the reality of life in a circus sideshow? What did being a freak-show entertainer actually entail? In the 21st century, such entertainment is rare, but it still exists in one form or another, and most likely – it will always exist, because humankind has always had a fascination with the bizarre and the abnormal, the strange, the rare and the wonderful!
In modern times, freak shows tend to have an entirely negative perception by the general public, but was this always the case? In this posting, we’ll be exploring the reality of life ‘on the road’ as a traveling showman and as a freak show or sideshow attraction, as well as getting acquainted with some of the most famous sideshow acts in history!
What Is a Sideshow?
A sideshow was the name given to any secondary or side-act performed or exhibited at a fairground which was not part of the main event or main performances being held at the circus during the time of its stay. Sideshows could be anything from someone walking on coals to sword-swallowing, breathing fire or juggling any number or range of strange or even dangerous objects. Or, it could completely depart from the realm of ‘normal’ entertainment – and enter the realm of the freak show!
A ‘freak show’, as the name suggested, was a variety of ‘freaks’ who traveled with the circus as performers and exhibitors, displaying themselves for the amusement, shock, education or sometimes, just the sheer wonderment – of the paying public – and paying public, is the key here – if you wanted to see one of the freaks, or meet them, touch them, ask them questions or take photographs of them – you were obliged to pay them for it – this wasn’t some free exhibition! Displaying themselves to the public was their job, and like all employees, the freaks expected to be paid for their time and effort!
What is a Freak Show?
A freak show is similar to, but not the same as, a sideshow. A sideshow is any type of sideline attraction at a fairground. A freak show is a type of sideshow focusing on ‘freaks of nature’ – human beings which were in one way odd, different, strange or otherwise mentally or physically deformed or handicapped in one way or another.
How Long have Freak Shows Been Around?
Honestly? Probably since the dawn of time.
The modern idea of the ‘freak show’ dates back at least to the 1630s, and by the 18th century, traveling freaks (either individuals, pairs or small groups), who exhibited themselves at shows around Europe, started becoming common. It became common for freaks to entertain royalty and nobility, and from as early as the 1600s, the position of ‘Court Dwarf’ started to spread around Europe.
What is a Court Dwarf?
A court dwarf was a little person, or person who grew up with one of any of the many forms of dwarfism, who were employed by royal and imperial courts throughout Europe in the 17th and 18th centuries, to act as entertainers and companions to the ruling monarch and their family. In a sense, these were the first type of ‘freak show’ to ever officially exist.
Count Jozef Boruwlaski. His walking-stick and hat (on the table) and his suit, are on exhibition at the Durham Town Hall in Durham, England, the town where he died.
Due to their rarity, dwarfs were actively traded among royal and princely families, and a dwarf could be given as a ‘gift’ from one ruler to another, as a sign of goodwill. Their unique appearance made court dwarfs very popular, and dwarfs often attained great wealth from the sizable stipends paid to them by the rulers whom they served. This practice lasted for over two hundred years, and the last official court dwarf was, Josef Boruwlaski, a Pole born in 1739. Although he had no official aristocratic title, his position as a Court Dwarf led to the nickname of ‘Count Jozef’.
Daniel Lambert. Weighing over 700lbs, he was the fattest man in recorded history at the turn of the 19th century.
A musician and entertainer, 3ft 3in ‘Count’ Jozef Boruwlaski died in 1837 at the impressive age of 97. He was most famous, in his day, for his meeting with Daniel Lambert – the 700-pound former prison-guard who was the fattest man in the world up to that point in recorded history. The official meeting of the world’s largest, and smallest men was reported widely in English newspapers at the time.
A statue of Count Jozef Boruwlaski, the ‘Durham Dwarf’ as he became known – the last official Court Dwarf in the world.
The Beginnings of Freak Shows
Count Boruwlaski and his contemporaries, such as Mr. Lambert, did exhibit themselves and did earn money from it. Indeed, ogling at Daniel Lambert’s gigantic obesity was highly fashionable in Georgian-era high-society…so fashionable in fact, that Lambert had to discontinue the practice, because it gave him absolutely no privacy!
However, the days of the court dwarf were numbered, and Boruwlaski is widely considered to be the last of his kind. He lived so long that he outlived all other court dwarfs, and after his death at the dawn of the Victorian era, the practice was discontinued. The death of the ‘Durham Dwarf’ effectively marked the end of one era of freak shows, and the beginning of another era – the professional, commercially-minded and enterprising freak-show operator and performer!
And for this, we must largely thank…one man. And that man is the incredibly flamboyant Mr. Phineas Taylor Barnum!…Better known as P.T. Barnum, arguably the most famous 19th century showman ever!
P.T. Barnum and the Greatest Show on Earth!
Born in 1810, Barnum’s actions basically gave rise to the world’s first official freak-show, as we might recognise it today. In 1841, Barnum purchased an old exhibition building on the corner of Broadway and Ann Street in New York City. Naming it “Barnum’s American Museum”, it served as a showcase for all the weird and wonderful things that he could find, with which to shock and amaze the paying public!
Not all of Barnum’s exhibits were entirely truthful – for example there was the “Feejee Mermaid” (a monkey and a fish sewn together!) or Joice Heth – purported to be the nursemaid of George Washington. Aged 161, Barnum passed her off as the “oldest living person in the world!”…when she died, an autopsy revealed that her age was closer to 80, rather than 160-odd.
But, in among the frauds and fakes, the half-truths and outright lies, Barnum’s American Museum did host some real and actual human oddities, and some of them became world-famous in their time! From the smallest man in the world to the dog-faced man, the lion boy and the camel woman, Barnum and his collection of freaks and sideshows shocked, wowed and amazed the public. In the 1840s, 50s and 60s, a good day out in the Big Apple was not considered to be complete without a visit to the museum.
Famous Freak Show Acts and Performers
One of the reasons we know so much about Victorian-era freak shows is because they were heavily promoted and advertised. There is a huge wealth of information out there documenting everything about them – photographs, advertising posters, postcards, newspaper articles, diary entries, and even biographies and autobiographies, written by the freaks themselves, or by the people who knew them.
So, who were these people, and what were their histories? Here, we’ll have a look at some of the most famous freak show attractions of all time.
NAME: Charles Sherwood Stratton. BIRTH-DEATH: 1838 – 1885. STAGE NAME: General Tom Thumb. CLAIM TO FAME: Smallest man in the world.
Born on the 4th of January, 1838, Charles S. Stratton is arguably the most famous circus freak who ever lived. He was also related to P.T. Barnum – they were distant cousins. When Barnum heard about his newborn cousin and his diminutive size, he couldn’t help but try to convince the boy’s parents that the child would be perfect for his American Museum. After working out a deal with Stratton’s parents, Barnum taught young Charles the elemental aspects of showbiz! Singing, dancing, how to be witty and smart and funny. Stratton’s father assisted with his son’s adjustment to the world of the circus, and accompanied Charles around, to aid in his adjustment.
Charles Stratton and his wife
Stratton became famous for impersonating famous ‘small people’ from history and mythology such as Napoleon Bonaparte, and Cupid, the baby angel of love. Once he’d started working at Barnum’s Museum, Charles Stratton was just four years old and was barely over two feet tall.
Stratton proved to be a natural comedian, and in 1856, when Stratton was eighteen, Barnum took him on their first European tour. By now, Stratton had attained the nickname of ‘General Tom Thumb’ and used this as his stage-name. Stratton’s popularity was astronomical, and he was soon more famous and more popular than almost any other big-name celebrity of the mid-1800s! He met Queen Victoria and Prince Albert Edward while he was in London. Queen Victoria was at first enraged, but then charmed, by the dwarf’s inability to walk backwards with ease (it was considered impolite to turn your back on the monarch) and she thought that everything about Stratton was adorable and comic, and invited him back to Buckingham Palace a number of times.
Back in America, Stratton’s fame only grew stronger when he met President Lincoln and Stratton notoriety made freak shows and sideshows widely socially-acceptable for the first time in history. People started treating circus freaks as entertainers and people, professionals who deserved respect, and not as oddities to be ogled at and degraded.
In 1863, Stratton married Lavinia Warren. Like everything else about his life, P.T. Barnum hammed this up for the press like it was going out of style. Stratton’s wedding photographs appeared in newspapers and magazines…and you could even gather a collectors’ set of them! His wedding was attended by thousands of people, and to greet all the guests who came to his house afterwards, Charles had to stand on top of a grand piano just to shake all their hands!
Stratton became obscenely rich from his freak-show appearances. He owned two houses, bailed out his cousin P.T. Barnum when the latter hit financial struggles, and even bought himself his own private yacht! Unfortunately, Stratton’s life was all too brief, and he died aged 45, in 1885, shortly after suffering a stroke.
NAME: Wilfred Westwood BIRTH-DEATH: 1897 – 1939. STAGE NAME: N/A CLAIM TO FAME: Circus Fat Boy
A staple of freak shows almost from day one was the classic ‘circus fat boy’ – typically an extremely obese, prepubescent child (usually a boy, although circus fat girls also existed – Wilfred’s older sister Ruby was a circus fat girl), whose job it was to shock and wow audiences with his gigantic size! Numerous sideshow fat boys existed throughout history, but one of the best documented was young Wilfred Westwood.
A native of New Zealand, Wilfred was the second-last child born into a large family, in 1897. Including his parents, there were nine people! Wilfred had an older sister (Ruby, also a circus fat-child), an older sister Eva, three older brothers, and one younger sister, Loyis Westwood. Together, Wilfred and Ruby brought the Westwood family incredible fame, and they toured Australia, New Zealand and several other countries besides. As early as 1900, when Wilfred was just three years old, newspaper articles were being written about him and his sister, as circus-promoters and journalists started trying to publicise the ‘giant children’.
Wilfred Westwood, aged 11, 1908.Weight: 308lbs.
By the age of 11, Wilfred weighed over 300lbs, and yet, despite this, he wasn’t even the largest circus fat-boy in the world…around the same time, John Trunley, the ‘Fat Boy of Peckham’, weighed over 350 pounds!
John Trunley (he’s the one on the right, in case you were wondering).
Trunley and Westwood were far from the only circus fat boys, but they were possibly, the most famous. In the 1800s and early 1900s, when infant and child mortality was as high as 25 or even 30%, and when millions of children were underfed and chronically malnourished (a public health-concern that caused the British government to start free school meals for underprivileged children) – children of incredible obesity were something to be celebrated and admired! At a time when the health-effects of extreme obesity were poorly understood, fatter children were seen as well-fed, healthy children, who were just a little bigger than the others.
Trunley became a watchmaker in later life, and died in 1944. Westwood became a glass-blower, and was killed in a car-crash in 1939.
NAME: Stephan Bibrowski BIRTH-DEATH: 1890 – 1932 STAGE NAME: Lionel the Lion Boy! CLAIM TO FAME: Hypertrichosis.
Born in Poland in 1890, young Stephan was abandoned by his mother almost since birth, when he started exhibiting symptoms of the phenomenally rare genetic condition known today as ‘Hypertrichosis’ or ‘Wolfman syndrome’, where the entire body – save the hands, and feet – are covered in hair!
Stephan’s mother believed that she had been a victim of ‘Maternal Impression’, also known as ‘Monstrous Birth Syndrome’, a popular (but unfounded) medical theory that had existed since at least the 1600s. Never heard of it? Not surprising.
The theory of maternal impression, or the ‘Monstrous Birth’ theory was the belief that if an expectant mother experienced some kind of trauma, her child would bear the marks of that trauma upon birth. In Bibrowski’s case, his father was attacked by a lion, which led his mother to believe that it was life-scarring event that led to her giving birth to a ‘lion’ of her own.
Lionel the Lion Boy!…Aged five, in 1895.
Young Stefan was taken in by the famous Barnum & Bailey Circus (yes, that Barnum), and by the age of 11 in 1901, he was touring Europe and America, billed as “Lionel the Lion Boy!” Apart from appearing as a sideshow, Lionel also performed acrobatic feats to impress the audiences who came to see him.
By the late 1920s, Lionel, or Bibrowski, started getting tired of the circus-life. He retired, and moved to Germany. He died in Berlin in 1932, at the age of 41. Cause of death: Heart attack.
NAME: Chang & Eng Bunker BIRTH-DEATH: 1811-1874 STAGE NAME: The Siamese Twins CLAIM TO FAME: Conjoined Twins
Ever heard the term ‘Siamese Twins’, referring to conjoined twins? Ever wondered where the term came from?
You have P.T. Barnum and Chang and Eng Bunker to thank for that!
Chang and Eng Bunker
Born in Siam (Thailand), Chang and Eng were of mixed American-and-Siamese heritage, and moved to America when they were still children. In later life, they adopted the more English-sounding surname ‘Bunker’ as part of their Americanisation. Chang and Eng started touring in 1829, and toured and exhibited themselves on and off for the rest of their lives, stopping in 1839. They had by this time become fluent in English, and took the time off to build a home for themselves, get married, and even raise children, but ten years later, they found themselves getting bored with ‘retirement’, and in 1849, they returned to the touring circuit through the 1850s and 60s.
The Bunkers were noted slaveholders in the years leading up to the Civil War, and in the period of Reconstruction that followed, much was made of this in the public press, which earned them great public backlash from the audiences who came to witness their performances. Depression and declining health led to the twins’ death within hours of each other, in 1874.
Apart from their fame in giving rise to the term ‘Siamese twins’, Chang and Eng Bunker hold another distinction – they were one of the longest-lived sets of conjoined twins in history – a record not surpassed until 2012!
NAME: Joseph Carey Merrick BIRTH-DEATH: 1862 – 1890 STAGE NAME: The Elephant Man CLAIM TO FAME: Proteus Syndrome (?)
By far the most famous freak show exhibitor in history (apart from Tom Thumb), has to have been Joseph Carey Merrick – better known as the Elephant Man.
Born in 1862, Merrick had a brutally hard and incredibly short life. His mother, one of the few people to care for him, died young, leaving him in the care of his father and stepmother. Repulsed by his appearance, they abandoned him, whereupon, Joseph was taken in by his uncle, a barber and hairdresser.
Joseph Merrick – the ‘Elephant Man’
Numerous attempts to find Joseph meaningful work (from hawking wares to rolling cigars, and even sweeping the floor of his uncle’s barbershop) all ended in failure due to his increasing deformities. Young Merrick ended up in the workhouse at least twice in his life, before finally deciding to turn his attention to the world of the circus freak!
Circus freaks were a world apart from everybody else in polite, straitlaced, and morally-upright Victorian society. They were a society of outcasts and misfits – the perfect place, Merrick reasoned, for someone like himself.
With the assistance of an understanding circus manager, Merrick started out on his career as a circus freak. In this role he remained for a few years, occupying a room behind a shop across the Whitechapel Road from the London Hospital. It was from this hospital that Frederick Treves, a noted surgeon, would come to meet Merrick. He studied his deformities and even had him photographed and examined. Merrick left London and traveled to Europe, where his fortunes took a downturn yet again.
Merrick had made a considerable amount of money from selling copies of his biography, which he sold alongside his freak-show act. The (slightly fictionalised) account of his life detailed his birth and upbringing, and the belief that he was the result of maternal impression. Mugged and robbed while in France, Merrick had lost almost all the money he’d made during his time as a circus-freak and returned to London almost penniless, arriving at Liverpool Street Station in 1886.
Joseph Merrick’s skeleton at the London Hospital
In an incident dramatically recreated in the 1980 film ‘The Elephant Man’, Merrick collapses from exhaustion, and only Dr. Treves’ business-card, in Merrick’s coat-pocket, gives a clue to his identity.
After a great deal of campaigning, fundraising, and philanthropic donations, enough funds were raised for the Elephant Man to live indefinitely in the London Hospital in Whitechapel. ‘The London’ was founded in the 1700s as a charity hospital, providing free healthcare to the impoverished and destitute. It survived entirely on public donations, and the physicians who worked there did so voluntarily, giving up a few days a week from their Harley Street addresses to tend to the sick and dying in the East End. In many respects, the London was the best place for Merrick. It was used to dealing with the very worst of the human condition – attempted suicides, alcoholism, industrial accidents, and infectious disease – which also meant that it was one of the most advanced medical centers in the world at the time. It was to the London Hospital that Jack the Ripper’s victims were taken, in 1888, for their autopsies.
Despite this background, the hospital had a strict policy of not admitting ‘incurables’ – those who had conditions which could not be treated, and which would only be a drain on the hospital’s already limited funds. It took a lot of convincing of the hospital’s board to allow Merrick special dispensation for his unique condition. It was more than obvious that he would not survive without round-the-clock medical care, and once enough funds had been raised, a two-room suite was laid out for him on the ground floor of the hospital. Here he would live for the rest of his life.
Merrick’s health improved, and it was during this time that Treves photographed Merrick once more, and interviewed him extensively about his life. Meeting the ‘Elephant Man’ became highly fashionable, and many of London’s wealthiest residents – including the future Queen Alexandra – would visit him at the hospital.
Joseph Carey Merrick – the Elephant Man – died in 1890. The autopsy on his disfigured body was carried out by the man who had come to know him better than anybody else – Sir Frederick Treves. Treves’ examination and the subsequent certificate he filled out, listed the cause of death as ‘Asphyxiation. It was Treves’ own theory that Merrick – who was unable to sleep lying down due to the contortions of his body, and the weight of his head – had slumped backwards against his bed during the night. This had caused his neck to break, cutting off his airway and resulting in death.
He was 27 years old.
To this day, Joseph Merrick’s skeleton is still held at the London Hospital.
The Public Perception of Freak Shows
The public tolerance of freak shows has waxed and waned over the years, decades, and even centuries and at various times they were celebrated, reviled, condemned and promoted.
The majority of freak-show managers and circus ringmasters looked upon running freak shows as being a social service. They were providing entertainment and education to the masses, as well as ‘shock-value’, indulging mankind’s fascination with the bizarre and unusual. At the same time, they were also providing misfits and people with horrible disfigurements or medical conditions, with a home, a family of sorts, a camaraderie, and a social network which gave them a living, a form of security, and a sense of belonging.
A lot of circus-freaks turned to their chosen occupation, usually as a last resort, to make the most of a bad situation, or simply to wow people with what they were. In an age before social security, government pensions, advocacy groups, effective medical treatment, and the countless other facilities and organisations available to people with severe disabilities today, being a circus-freak was, more or less – the last half-respectable occupation open to people who would otherwise have found themselves on the street.
Freak-shows have never really gone away. They still exist, and in some cases, have simply switched mediums. There’s no shortage, in the 21st century, of TV shows depicting all kinds of modern-day ‘freaks’ from ‘Freaky Eaters’ to ‘Hoarders’ and ‘Most Shocking’, which featured its own ‘circus fat boy’ – Dzhambulat Khatohov.
As the old Jack Buchanan song goes: “When the clock strikes four, everything stops for tea!”.
But – why does it? In this posting, we’ll be looking at the history of, arguably, the world’s most popular beverage – tea – and everything that goes along with it. What tea is, where it comes from, how it came to be, the customs surrounding tea and its consumption, and the utensils and paraphernalia used around the world in the consumption of tea!
Due to tea’s extensive history and variations, there’s no way that I’ll cover everything in just one posting, so I may do another one at a future date. So if something you wanted to read or know about isn’t included here, then it may be included in a possible follow-up posting later down the line.
Not for All the Tea in China!
Tea as we think of it today, was first cultivated in China as early as 4000B.C., but it was not harvested for its beverage qualities – instead, it was eaten as a vegetable! Tea was not consumed as a beverage until sometime between 300-500A.D. However, the first incarnation of tea was prepared very differently from how we think of it today.
During the Chinese Tang Dynasty (618-907A.D.), the accepted practice was to crush and grind tea-leaves in a pestle and mortar. The crushed leaves were beaten and ground up until they had been reduced to powder. This allowed the powdered leaves to be compressed into bricks or cakes, which would be easier to pack, and easier to transport, keeping their flavour for longer over long trade-journeys, which in those days could take several days, weeks, or even months!
When it came time to drink the tea, the cake or brick was simply crumbled into powder again, and water was added on top to dilute it. In Chinese, this was known as “mocha”. When the Japanese adopted this practice, they also took the Chinese loanword along with it, and ‘mocha’ became the Japanese ‘Matcha’. This remained the norm until the 1300s, when the practice changed yet again, to steeping dried tea-leaves, instead of tea-powder, much as how we do today.
Tea on the Move
For centuries, tea remained a largely Chinese secret. Tea was traded, along with silk, porcelain and valuable spices, around Asia, and along the fabled Silk Road network. However, things started to change in the 1500s and 1600s, with Dutch sailors exploring the Far East. It was at this time that Europeans were first exposed to the beverage of tea.
Like anything new – tea, coffee, chocolate, kale juice and quinoa – tea was first consumed for its medicinal properties, either real, or imagined. In Europe, where the main beverages were beer, ale and wine, due to how polluted the water was, tea was a welcome and surprising change, and slowly, it spread around Europe.
Enjoying a Cuppa
Tea is believed to have been brought in England in 1661. Why such a precise date? Because that’s when a Portuguese woman named Catherine of Braganza sailed from her homeland to wed England’s King Charles II. Famously barren, Catherine produced no children, and this left Charles unable to sire a legitimate heir to the throne, however, the queen did give birth to something arguably much more important than children – British tea-culture!
As part of her dowry, Catherine brought to England, not only gold, silver and jewels, but also exotic spices and expensive teas. Noble families, wishing to ingratiate and imitate their new queen, took to copying her drinking habits, which included consuming tea – but not only consuming it, but also enjoying it, and making an event of it – We have Queen Catherine to thank for the very British custom of ‘taking tea’.
In its early days, tea was extremely rare in Britain, and prohibitively expensive! China had a stranglehold monopoly on the substance, and the one-and-only port in China which was open to foreign traders, and therefore, the only port open to exporting tea, was the port of Canton in southern China.
Because of such restrictive trading regulations, the amount of tea that Britain (and other European countries) could import each year was very small, and this drove the price up to such an insane level that only the nobility could afford it. Tea was drunk sparingly, and the whole custom of preparing, and serving tea was a ritual presided over almost exclusively by the women of a household. Servants were rarely, if ever, permitted to touch tea, and the dried tea-leaves, imported all the way from China, were locked inside elaborately decorated tea-caddies, lined with foil paper to protect the flavour, and which were made of anything from wood inlaid with ivory, to tortoiseshell, and even – if you could afford it – solid silver!
The Word ‘Tea’
‘Tea’ is believed to have been a corruption of ‘te’, the word used for the beverage in the Chinese port of Xiamen, one of the first to open to trade with the West (particularly, the Dutch, who were the first to import tea to Europe). In most Asian languages (including Chinese and Japanese), the word for ‘tea’ is ‘cha’.
China from China, What Else Could be Finer?
What else, indeed?
The Chinese had been creating hard-paste ceramics…what we call ‘porcelain’ today…since at least the 6th century. Hard-paste porcelain was tricky to make – it required a very high firing temperature, and the mixture of various powders used to form the paste from which the porcelain was made had to be carefully measured and prepared. The best quality porcelain-clay preparations were often left alone to age…in many cases, for several decades!
After the maturation or ‘souring’ process, during which the clay-mix had been left to rest, the clay had to be rehydrated before it could be worked. To do this, potters simply opened their flies and pissed into it! The urine reintroduced moisture into the clay and made it more plastic, which made it easier to shape and mold into whatever it was that you were trying to make!…Don’t worry, the firing process killed off any bacteria in the clay, rendering the porcelain clean and sterile when it was removed from the kiln.
Chinese porcelain was heavily imported by Europeans in the 1600s and 1700s, along with tea, but transporting porcelain such long distances was expensive, if only for the fact that trying to transport crates of chinaware on a rocking, rolling sailing ship is a recipe for disaster. Because of this, there were numerous attempts to recreate Chinese-style porcelain in Europe – particularly in Britain, and the Low Countries.
Actual porcelain ceramics are made using a mixture of fine clay powder, sand and a tiny amount of the secret ingredient – soapstone – basically talcum-powder. Working this mixture created a type of porcelain which could be shaped, and fired and made into ceramics which were crisp, white, incredibly thin to the point of translucency…and, most importantly, where tea is concerned…shatter-resistant!
One of the reasons why European attempts to recreate Chinese porcelain failed was because of this one element. They had no resistance to thermal shock – the sudden change in temperature caused by pouring boiling hot tea into a cold, porcelain tea-bowl or teacup. People who couldn’t afford fine china bought the cheaper, lower quality ceramics, which the wealthy bought the more stable, thinner, stronger and more suitable expensive china. This is the supposed origin of poor people adding milk to their tea first, whereas wealthier drinkers added milk afterwards…or not at all! The cold milk took the sting out of the heat of the tea when it was poured into the cup, so that the porcelain wouldn’t crack under the temperature-change.
Eventually, Europeans did manage to create their own form of porcelain, independent from Chinese ceramicists – it was called bone china. Depending on the recipe used, bone-china clay was comprised of china-stone powder (a type of granite), china-clay (kaolinite), and, depending on the formulation of the recipe – anywhere from 30-60% bone…as in actual bone. The bones of dead animals were cleaned, crushed, ground up into powder, and this was added to the mixture. The translucency, thinness and strength of bone china (four bone-china cups can hold up a car, in case you’re wondering), are all due to the addition of bone-powder into the clay mix.
Types of Teaware
When the custom of tea-drinking was introduced to Europe in the 1600s, Chinese porcelain came along with it, and these were the vessels first used to prepare and drink tea. The earliest European teaware, manufactured in the 1700s, closely imitated Chinese teaware, both in size, style, and even decoration. Transfer-printed imagery (engraved on a copper plate, covered with ink and then transferred onto thin paper which was then pressed onto the finished ceramics before firing) often featured Chinese-style motifs, such as gardens, pagodas and flowers.
European Teaware
The earliest European teacups imitated Chinese ones so much that they did not come with handles – instead, they resembled the Chinese ‘chawan’ (‘tea-bowl’), varying from them only in decoration and size. The Western practice of putting a separate handle on the side of a teacup would not become common until the early 1800s.
In time, the practice of adding milk, and later, sugar, to tea, spurred the creation of the traditional three-piece tea-set, of teapot, milk-jug or creamer, and sugar-bowl. Like tea, sugar in the 1600s and 1700s was very expensive, and was imported largely from Caribbean and South-American sugar-plantations, where it was extracted from sugar-cane crops. Because of the expense of sugar, some people added honey to their tea instead.
Asian Teaware
Chinese, and other Asian teaware has hardly changed in centuries. Teacups have varied in style and decoration, but hardly ever in terms of size, or shape. Since most Asian people don’t add anything to their tea, their teacups are generally smaller than European ones, and their tea-sets are less elaborate – comprising of just the teapot and a set of teacups, and perhaps a matching tea-tray or more likely – a tea-board, to catch spills, or to rise and wash the teacups between uses.
Apart from this, the Chinese teacup did evolve in one way: The creation of the ‘Gaiwan‘.
Three ‘gaiwan’ teacup-sets.In the background is a traditional Chinese earthenware tea-set, sitting on a tea-board. The wooden scoop is for measuring out tea-leaves.
‘Gaiwan’ literally translates as ‘lidded bowl’ in Chinese. ‘Gai’ is lid, or cover, and ‘wan’ (or ‘woon’, in Cantonese) is ‘bowl’.
The compound word of ‘gaiwan’ refers to a specific type of Chinese teacup-set, comprised of a teacup or bowl with a wide, flaring lip, small base and sloping sides, a matching, circular lid with a lifting-knob on top, and a matching saucer underneath, into which the base of the teacup fits snugly.
Gaiwan have been around for centuries, and their creation dates back to the Ming Dynasty, sometime in the 1400s. Gaiwan were used, either for brewing tea, or for drinking it. The lid served to either stir the tea to help it brew, to cool it down before drinking, or to hold back the loose tea-leaves while drinking from the cup. The lid also stopped the heat of the boiling water from escaping, keeping the tea warm for a longer time between sips.
Russian Teaware
Another country famous for its teaware is Russia, where the practice of taking tea is possibly more different than anywhere else on earth.
Russia was the land which originated the tea-preparing device known as the samovar – literally – ‘self-boiler’ – a large (usually brass) tea-urn comprised of a central cistern, fire-tube and chimney, drip-tray and teapot.
A samovar (in the background) in a Russian painting
In most cases, the Russian practice of tea-drinking was to fill the samovar’s cistern with water. The chimney or firebox was filled with paper and wood-shavings, and then set on fire. Refueling the samovar was simply a matter of dropping kindling, or pine-cones down the chimney. Ash was removed through a little door underneath the firebox. A stand set on top of the chimney allowed a teapot with tea-concentrate to be placed over the fire, keeping it hot. The tea-concentrate was very, very, very concentrated tea, with multiple spoons of tea inside a relatively small pot filled with hot water.
The drinker would pour a small amount of the concentrate into their teacup or tea-glass, replace the pot on top of the samovar, and then, using the spigot on the front of the samovar – fill the rest of their glass with boiling water. This would dilute the tea-concentrate, making it more mellow, and pleasant to drink.
Like with other countries with a tea-culture, in Russia, it became popular to make an event out of drinking tea, and tea was often consumed along with sweet pastries, cakes and cookies. The practice of using a samovar spread widely throughout eastern Europe and around the Middle East and the Eastern Mediterranean, leading to regional variations and different national styles and designs.
The Art of Taking Tea
Since earliest times, the practice of drinking or ‘taking’ tea has always been surrounded by rituals and customs. Gradually, early tea-drinking habits developed into regional customs and traditions, and these led to a wide range of ways to enjoy tea all around the world.
In China, and Asian countries such as Taiwan, Hong Kong, and Singapore, the tradition of ‘yumcha’ still exists today – where people gather for lunch or a morning or afternoon meal, consisting of tea, and eating dumplings, buns and rolls. The words ‘yum cha’ literally mean ‘drink tea’. Going out for yumcha is usually a special occasion, done with family and friends, or visiting relatives and takes place at specialised yumcha restaurants.
In Britain, and many former British colonies such as Canada and Australia, the tradition of ‘afternoon tea’ is a longstanding tradition dating back to early Victorian times. It was said to be invented by Anna Maria Russell, the Duchess of Bedford, a longtime personal friend of Queen Victoria.
Frustrated by the long wait between luncheon and dinner (which in Victorian times, could be taken as late as 8:00pm), the Duchess took up the habit of having a light meal in the late-afternoon, around three or four o’clock, consisting of tea, cakes, sandwiches and scones. This, the Duchess hoped, would hold her over until dinner, which could be anywhere from two to four hours later in the day. She enjoyed this custom so much that it started spreading throughout the court, and it became fashionable to invite friends over for afternoon tea – a quiet time in the middle of the day when one could relax with a light snack, a drink, and a chance to catch up on the gossip of the day. Afternoon tea remains a popular custom in the Anglosphere to this day.
Tea Today
The beverage of tea, as well as the meals and events that it inspired, remain as popular today as they ever were. Even when we have other drinks like coffee, or soda, milk, and a wide range of flowery and herbal infusions – tea remains one of, if not the, most popular beverage in the world. Hotels from as far afield as the Ritz in London to the Windsor in Melbourne, or the Raffles Hotel in Singapore, still serve high tea and afternoon tea today. In Malaysia and Singapore, you can buy my personal favourite type of tea: ‘Teh Tarik’ (‘Pulled Tea’) – which is black tea mixed with condensed milk and sugar…and which is then poured repeatedly from mug to mug, over and over again to froth it up and cool it down, leaving you with a rich, sweet, warm, frothy drink! Mmmm-mmmm!
If you visit any major European city – for example – Brussels, or Amsterdam, London, or Paris, and you go to the “old city” or the “ancient quarter” in the very heart of the metropolis, chances are, you’ll stumble across all kinds of amazing, beautiful buildings. Among these buildings – are guildhalls.
Beautifully-faced guildhalls in the Dutch city of Antwerp.
Guildhalls are all over Europe. Almost every major European city was bound to have at least one – usually – several, sometimes all clustered in one place, sometimes, spread out around the city, but they are there, if you know where, and how to find them. During my trips to Europe, I was fortunate enough to see the Guildhall in London, and some of the beautiful ones in the Netherlands when I visited Amsterdam. But then, you might ask – what is a guildhall? What makes it so special? And for that matter – what the hell is a guild?
I am so glad you asked. Let’s find out together!
What exactly is a Guild?
“I say, Jeeves! What an extraordinary talent! Could one inquire as to…” “I’m not at liberty to divulge the ingredients, sir”. “No! Of course not! Secrets of the guild, and all that, eh?” “Precisely, sir!”
– “Jeeves & Wooster”
A guild is defined as an organisation, or group of people, with shared interests, goals, crafts or skills, which is formed in order to protect their mutual interest, provide support to each other, and to further the improvement of their craft or interest – whatever that happens to be.
Using this definition – how far back can guilds be traced?
Believe it or not, but – thousands of years!
The first guilds – of a sort – were established in Ancient Rome, but the system of guilds that most people think about today were largely created in Medieval (476 – 1350) or Renaissance times (1350 – 1600), and they were established all over Europe, to such an extent that almost every major city was bound to have several of them – and believe it or not – guilds are still being established today – the London Worshipful Company of Art Scholars was created…in 2010!
What is a Guild For? What does it Do?
The purpose of a guild is to regulate a trade or profession, to guard and record trade or craft secrets, and to keep the trade alive. Within a particular community (say – a city), guilds regulated and certified the work done by various craftsmen or professionals within the community. In an age when knowledge was passed down from father to son, mother to daughter, master to apprentice, when records were hard to keep, and literacy was minimal – the best way to ensure that the best of the best interests of a trade or skill or profession were being both protected, regulated, and taught – was to consolidate all this knowledge into one organisation – a guild!
And this trade or profession could be literally anything – writers, weavers, tailors, silversmiths, blacksmiths, accountants, barbers…London even has a guild for taxi-drivers! Guilds existed to preserve a craft or profession’s secrets, skills and histories, and to maintain standards of professionalism, as well as to oversee the continued improvement and education of those who wished to participate in that particular craft or profession, regardless of what it actually was. The closest modern equivalent to a medieval guild is like a modern trade union, where paid-up members receive benefits and have a say in how their trade or profession is regulated, and what it will, or will not do.
How Does a Guild Operate?
When a guild was formed, it first required somewhere to call home – a guildhall, or a guildhall stand-in, if a purpose-built guildhall did not yet exist. The next thing it required was a register – a list of all its members – who they were, what their positions and skills were, and what ranks they held. In older times, these registers were laboriously written longhand by a scribe, and every update or addition required that a whole new document be created from scratch.
The next thing that a guild needed was to establish a body and hierarchy of members. Guilds were broadly broken up into craft guilds, and merchant guilds; craft guilds are the most well-known, and to enter a craft guild required a lengthy training process. This is covered below…
The Apprentice
If you wanted to be part of a guild, you needed to have a trade or craft, and join the guild which catered to that trade or craft. To earn the right to be a craftsman or tradesman, you needed to complete the necessary training and education – known as an apprenticeship. An apprentice was a novice, a student, a pupil of the craft or profession which he hoped to make his life’s work. A newbie, as we’d call it today.
Apprentices almost always started as teenagers, usually between 13-15 years of age. To be made an apprentice, or to carry out an apprenticeship, the hopeful craftsman first had to find someone to teach him the tips and tricks of the trade. To do this, he would visit the guildhall of his selected trade, and seek out someone who would be his mentor – a master craftsman who required an apprentice, and who would offer him a position. If the apprentice accepted, then a document – a Certificate of Indenture – was drawn up.
An apprentice’s Certificate of Indenture. Note the wavy ‘indented’ line at the top of the page.
Depending on the craft or trade that the apprentice wished to enter, he might find the act of finding a master to teach him, to be easier than he might expect. It was very common for the children of master craftsmen to follow in the professions of their fathers. In this instance, the apprentice’s own father would train them in their chosen profession. In this way, generations of craftsmen could all work within a single family, and many famous craftsmen throughout history, entered their professions this way. Paul Revere, of Revolutionary War fame, was apprenticed to his father, who was a silversmith. John Harrison, the famous clockmaker, was apprenticed to his father, who was a carpenter. But just because you got to join the family business didn’t mean that you could escape the strictures of the day – you still had to fill out your certificate, sign it, and agree to it.
The certificate – colloquially known as one’s “indentures” or “indenture papers” – was a contract between the Master Craftsman, and the Apprentice. It stipulated in black and white what the Master owed his apprentice, and likewise, what the Apprentice owed the Master. Both parties would sign the indentures (there was always at least two) and then it was certified by a legal official such as a notary, judge, or a member of the guild.
Silversmith Paul Revere Junior, holding a silver teapot
The document was then sealed, dated, and finally – torn in half. The wavy, curving lines that were made along the break in the paper was what gave the document its name – the line wasn’t straight – it was never straight – it was always ‘indented’ – wavering, irregular and erratic. This is why the documents were known as ‘indentures’. This was done deliberately so that it would be impossible for either party to create a fake agreement later on, changing any of the terms or conditions previously agreed upon, since both documents had to be presented at the same time, and they both had to match up along the same wavy, indented line when they were put together.
Apprenticeships lasted a very long time – the usual length of time was seven years. In this way, an apprentice completed his apprenticeship when he was in his early twenties. In that seven years, an apprentice was expected to learn, and be taught, all the skills and tips and tricks of his chosen trade or profession. Apprentices typically did all the grunt-work. Looking after tools, doing the simple, unskilled jobs, cleaning the workshop, lighting the fire, understanding how the implements and tools were used, and how various techniques and finishes were applied or carried out.
Near the end of their apprenticeships, to prove that they were paying attention, and actually knew what they were doing, apprentices had to pass, what we would today, call a ‘practical examination’. In this, they had to prove their skills to their master by creating what was called a ‘journeyman piece’ – this piece would incorporate all the various skills, techniques and methods that they had learned throughout their apprenticeships, and the better it was, the more likely they were to progress in their profession. Tailors had to make clothes, carpenters might make furniture, a cabinetmaker might try to build a chest of drawers, a silversmith might try to make a silver beaker or tumbler, and so on.
The point of the journeyman piece was to show that he had attained the necessary skills to move up to the next rank – that of a journeyman craftsman. If he had, then he had successfully completed his apprenticeship, and could move on upwards…
The Journeyman
The next step up for the budding craftsman was to be a journeyman. A journeyman was any craftsman or skilled tradesman who had successfully completed the contract of his indenture, and was now considered to have mastered the basics of his craft. The next thing he had to do was to gain experience. Experience was gained by working as an employee of a master craftsman. Not an apprentice – who was a student – but as an actual paid worker.
The word ‘Journeyman’ comes from the French ‘Journee’ – meaning ‘day’ – a craftsman had now advanced from being an apprentice, to being a day-labourer – someone who was literally paid per-day of work by his employer. Journeymen were more free in their work than apprentices – they could have their own families and private lives, they could own their own property and come and go from work each day as they pleased. This was in contrast with an apprentice, who typically lived with his master in his master’s house, with the master expected to feed, clothe, and house, as well as train and educate his pupil.
While journeymen were apprentices who had successfully completed their apprenticeships, they were not yet considered fully-fledged artisans in the sense that they did not have the right to employ someone else to work under them, however, a journeyman – again, unlike an apprentice – had the right to demand payment for their day’s work.
If, or when, a journeyman decided that he had had enough of working for ‘the man’, then a journeyman could, if he had the skill, apply to become a master craftsman. Just as an apprentice had to complete a journeyman piece to become a journeyman, a journeyman had to complete a masterpiece in order to become a master craftsman. However, while a journeyman piece was judged by a master, a masterpiece was not judged by another master – but by several masters!
See, the only way to actually join a guild was to prove to the master craftsmen of that guild that you deserved the privilege, and had the skills, to make it worthwhile to accept you as a member. So if you wanted to try and become a master craftsman, then your masterpiece was submitted – not to one master – but to several masters! And if they all agreed that your masterpiece really was a masterpiece – and that you had shown that you had exceptional skill – you would be granted the title of master!
The Master Craftsman
As a Master Craftsman, you were now able to carry out your desired trade as you wished. This meant that you could open your own business, hire apprentices, set your own prices, and decide what, when, why, where, and how you worked. However, there were still restrictions.
See, to be a master craftsman, you had to follow a sort of ‘Code of Conduct’, and to ensure that you did follow this code, a lot of cities insisted that any craftsman or skilled labourer working within the bounds of the city had to register themselves with the guildhall of their specific craft. So, you might be a master silversmith, but you couldn’t work as a silversmith in a city without first registering yourself as a silversmith at the city’s silversmithing guildhall.
Registering with your specific guild meant that you had to follow specific rules and regulations. While you were free to do what you wanted, more or less, you were also prevented from doing certain things – for example – you couldn’t talk about your profession – guilds existed to protect the interests of their members – and these interests included any trade or industrial secrets, processes or methods which their members carried out – so you couldn’t divulge secret recipes, or special methods or experiments – to anybody outside the guild. Punishments for doing so were surprisingly severe, and usually included some form of public humiliation.
While this might sound extreme, being a master craftsman or merchant registered with your particular guild also came with a lot of perks – paying your membership fees ensured all kinds of benefits, and guilds operated specifically to benefit their members. The very word “guild” comes from the German word “Gelt” and the Old English word “Gield” – meaning “Payment, or money”.
In this way, guilds were a sort of insurance firm or benevolent society – they provided financial assistance to help master craftsmen start up their own businesses, provided poor relief if they lost their business, shared trade secrets, and regulated working conditions.
Unsurprisingly, guilds could become extremely powerful – so much so that they could, if they desired, not pay, or pay very few – taxes – especially if the guild handled a trade or craft that was particularly important.
The Decline of the Guilds
Guilds and their guildhalls remained prominent through much of the Middle Ages (476AD – ca. 1400), the Renaissance (1400-1600) and much of the Early Modern period (ca. 1600-1800). However, by the time of the Vcitorian era, guilds started losing a lot of the prominence, power and influence that they had once held for over a thousand years. Many factors led to their eventual downfall.
Guilds carried out a lot of functions – they regulated prices, training, education, keeping of records, and countless other things – but they were also – in a sense – monopolies. If you wanted to trade as a particular craftsman or merchant within a particular city – you had to join the city guild dedicated to that craft or area of merchandise – no ifs, no buts – no join, no sell. Simple as that.
A lot of traders and craftsmen started seeing this as being detrimental to their trade – after all – why should a guildhall determine how much you can sell your stuff for? Why should it be a law that you HAD to join the guild just to trade within the city boundaries? Fair enough, they kept records and oversaw apprenticeships, but craftsmen and artisans started feeling that some guilds were simply getting too powerful for their own good, and shifting attitudes in the Victorian era saw guilds gradually decrease in power over the next hundred years.
By the mid-1800s, guilds had lost much of their power. Changing attitudes about work, and how trade and industrial secrets should be protected, sapped the guilds of their authority. Political changes such as the French Revolution of 1789, and the “Year of Revolutions” (1848), caused the guilds in many cities, sovereign states and city-states across Europe to be dissolved, and their functions taken over by modern companies and businesses, with laws enacted to cover the areas once protected or regulated by the guild system.
Guilds Today?
Guilds as we tend to think of them – as in, the Medieval European guilds, do not exist anymore. Guildhalls remain as historical landmarks and heritage protected buildings, but the organisations they housed are largely lost to history. Some organisations call themselves guilds, although this is mostly as a professional courtesy or nostalgic throwback, rather than having any actual resemblance to medieval guilds.
In London, there do still exist a number of “Worshipful Companies”, which operate similar to guilds, but the number of institutions that exist today, which are most like real medieval guilds are fast disappearing, if indeed they still exist.
Chopsticks have always fascinated me. They’re simple, elegant, portable, robust, and compact. And, once you’ve mastered the use of chopsticks – almost anything can be used as chopsticks – I remember Jackie Chan in one of his early movies, where his character was trying to have lunch in his office – unable to find any actual chopsticks to eat his noodles with, he gave up and used a pair of pencils, instead!
Although these days, it’s common in many Asian households to have an entire drawer-compartment overflowing with chopsticks, and the only problem you face is trying to match them up when you need a pair to eat lunch with, in times past, chopsticks were highly-prized personal possessions, and it was common for people to each have their own pair. In some countries – such as Japan – this is still the case. At a time when chopsticks were hard to come by, once you owned a pair – you carried it with you everywhere!
Such was the case, when this trousse was made!
What is a Chopstick Trousse?
‘Trousse’ is a French word, which variously means “kit”, “case” or a type of compartmentalised container, used for storing implements, tools or utensils required for a specific task. This is a chopstick trousse, and its task is…eating!
Chopstick trousses were created back in the 1700s in northern China. Their use was encouraged after a law was passed by the Qianlong Emperor, which decreed that all Manchu-Chinese had to carry around a pair of chopsticks, and a knife, with which to eat their food. Manchurian and Mongolian dining habits and styles meant that a knife was an essential part of one’s eating utensils, since the knife would be used to slice or cut up one’s meat. The passing of this law was to ensure the preservation of Manchurian culture, since Manchus were a minority elite, ruling over the much larger Han Chinese population at the time.
A lot of people call these things Chinese or Japanese eating trousses. I’m not sure why, because they don’t come from Japan, and while they existed in China, they were never used by the Chinese. Japanese and Chinese dining customs don’t use knives – they didn’t then, they don’t now. Trousses like these were largely used by minorities.
The standard chopstick trousse comes with a single, thin, long-bladed knife, and a pair of chopsticks, which may, or may not be chained at the top (to prevent loss if they fall out). I have seen sets with two knives, and two sets of chopsticks, but the vast majority will have just the one knife, and one set of chopsticks.
The case, with the chopsticks and knife.
How is it Made?
Almost all trousses were made of wood – wood is easy to find, easy to carve and shape, and easy to stick together. This trousse is also made of wood. How trousses differed from each other, however, was in how they were decorated. Trousses could be embellished in any number of ways, from inlaying bone or silver, brass or nickel, leather, sharkskin, stingray, or in the case of my trousse – tortoiseshell.
The tortoiseshell – thin and flexible, would have been steamed – much like how you steam wood – to soften it – and when it was especially soft and flexible, the tortoiseshell was wrapped around the wooden body of the trousse, with a layer of glue in between, to adhere one to the other. A similar process would’ve been carried out to sheath the knife-handle in the same tortoiseshell.
What is it Made Of?
This trousse is made of wood (which makes up the body of the trousse and the handle on the knife), brass (the collar at the top of the trousse), tortoiseshell (the decorative overlay), silver (the chopsticks) and finally – the white collar and pommel on the knife are both made of bone. Bone was a very common material to make trousse accessories from – chopsticks, knife scales, hilts, collars and pommels were all made from bone. It was abundant, cheap, or free, easy to carve, and could be polished to a beautiful whiteness – and much easier to find than ivory!
Are Trousses Common?
Fairly common, yes. I suspect that millions of these things were made over the centuries, and that many were probably brought to the West by expats, explorers, missionaries or tourists traveling in Asia in the 1800s and 1900s. They range in price on eBay from $150.00 to over $300-$500, depending on age, condition, and level of decoration and detail. I don’t know exactly who collects these things, but there does seem to be an interest in them.
Repairing the Trousse
The trousse was pretty cheap when I bought it – this was largely due to the fact that it wasn’t complete at the time. The trousse didn’t come with its original chopsticks, which were probably bone, so I replaced them with my silver chopsticks which I bought about two years ago. On top of that, some of the tortoiseshell was also coming loose. I removed the tortoiseshell and glued it back on. Once it was secured, then I started working on another part of the trousse that needed my attention: the pommel at the top of the knife.
The point of the pommel is to protect the top of the knife handle. In this case, the pommel was missing, but I could tell from the hilt or the collar at the end of the blade next to the handle, that it would originally have been made of bone. I was able to secure some small pieces of bone, and, using a file, some sandpaper, glue and oil, I was able to shape the bone, glue it onto the top of the knife, file and sand it flat, polish it smooth, and shape it to the shape of the top of the handle.
Although it’s a tiny detail, just fixing this one element took several hours of filing, shaping, measuring, sawing, gluing, filing, and more filing, and finally, polishing, to get the new pommel not only to stay on top of the knife, but also fit in with the thickness and shape of the rest of the knife and its bone hilt, as well. It’s not 100% perfect, but at least the knife now looks much more complete than it previously had done.
The Montblanc Meisterstuck #149. A pen of legendary, mythical proportions. Much has been said about this pen, and much has been written about this pen…and…much has been written with this pen. I’ve wanted one for years, but was constantly put off buying one because of their massive price-tags ($1,200AUD+, at the time of this posting).
But then, Saint Nibby, Patron Saint of Fountain Pens, decided to throw some luck my way – and I was able to buy a vintage Montblanc Meisterstuck 149 at auction – as part of a box lot of pens – at a price which was about 80% cheaper than its current retail price. You bet I jumped at it!
Before taking that plunge, however, I spent a lot of time examining the pen, before deciding to bid on it. While the pen was vintage, and secondhand…it was still a Montblanc, with everything that comes along with it – including a high price. So you bet I took a bloody long time to examine that pen in detail, before deciding to toss even a bent penny towards it.
Fortunately, the pen I bought was 100% legitimate, and 100% vintage – made in West Germany in the 1980s, and sold out of a jewelry shop in Hong Kong on the 22nd of December, 1989 – I know this, because the Montblanc Instruction Manual that came with the pen had all this information written inside it. So, 30 years ago, someone bought someone else a very expensive Christmas present!
In my case, I got lucky. But there are people out there who are not so lucky. Unfortunately – all famous brands are faked. Louis Vuitton, Rolex, Montblanc and countless others, are often the victims of forgeries and fakes, and every year, hundreds of people pay massive amounts of money for something that isn’t what they were hoping it was.
Now, you might think – what does it really matter, if the fake is good quality, and didn’t break the bank? Is it really an issue?
Yes. For two reasons.
If it’s a fake, it won’t be covered by warranties or return-policies. If the item gets damaged and needs to be repaired or replaced – the company won’t honour its end of the bargain, because you didn’t honour your end of the bargain by buying a genuine item.
If you try and sell the item later on – nobody will want to buy it from you, and you’ll be stuck with something that you can’t get rid of.
Now, I understand that not everybody goes out looking to buy a fake, and that some people do get caught up in nets of deceit and lies. So, how do you spot a fake? Or to be precise – How do you spot a fake Montblanc Meisterstuck 146 or 149 fountain pen?
This guide is going to be written assuming that you don’t have any (or much) experience in buying Montblanc fountain pens. We’re taking simple, easy baby steps here, and will, by and large, be sticking to one or two models: The Meisterstuck 146, and the larger and more famous 149. There’s a lot of things to consider when buying a Montbanc fountain pen, and a LOT of things to be weary of, when dealing with fakes.
Montblanc Fountain Pens – Spotting a Fake
Selling vintage and secondhand pens is a very lucrative business. There are dealers and collectors out there who are able to make a pretty decent living, just from flipping old pens, repairing them, cleaning them, and putting them back out onto the open market. This is great for writers, or pen collectors, because it means that they can get great pens at discount prices, which perhaps they wouldn’t ordinarily be able to afford. But as always in the secondhand market – Caveat Emptor – Buyer Beware.
Whether you’re buying a vintage Montblanc online (eBay, Facebook Groups, secondhand dealer, antiques store) or in-person (auction house, flea-market, pen show, etc), there are certain things you should be aware of, before dropping hundreds, or even thousands, of dollars, on a Montblanc pen. As a pen collector and writer of many years’ experience, I’m going to share a few tips with you – here are some things to look out for…
How Much Does It Cost?
This might sound like a stupid thing to pay attention to, I know – but hear me out. Let’s say you find a Montblanc, secondhand, on eBay, or Facebook, and you want to buy it. Pay attention to the asking price – especially if it’s being sold by an “official distributor” (pfft, yeah right).
Brand-new Montblanc pens cost STUPID CRAZY amounts of money. Hundreds, thousands, even TENS of thousands of dollars EACH. Nobody selling Montblancs – whether they’re brand new, or vintage – is going to let them go for dirt-cheap. If you see someone trying to sell you a Montblanc for under $200…pick up your wallet and RUN AWAY. Real Montblancs are bloody hard to win at auction, and difficult to find secondhand for good money – so anyone who ever bought one to resell it is not going to give it away for nothing. If the person trying to sell you that ‘Montblanc’ is giving you a deal too good to refuse – then you should probably refuse it.
That said, just because a Montblanc online is really expensive doesn’t mean that it’s real, either. You can charge whatever the hell you want for a piece of crap…and it’s still going to be crap…it’s just going to be really expensive – and worthless – crap. So what else can you do to find out whether a pen is real or not? Keep reading, below…
How Many do they Have?
Another way to spot a fake, is to ask the dealer or seller how many Montblancs they have for sale. Make up some bullshit-story like you need six identical 146s, for your groomsmen at your wedding or something – and see what the dealer says. If they automatically say ‘Yes!’…then back away very, very slowly.
Most vintage pen dealers will not be able to afford dozens of Montblancs. If someone suddenly claims to have six identical ones, or more, and they’re going to sell them to you at bargain prices, then they’re either very rich…or very fake. In twenty five years of writing, and twenty years of collecting fountain pens, I’ve only ever owned four Montblancs – and only two of those I bought with my own money, and only because they were absolute bargains secondhand.
Regardless of what the model is, Montblancs are that bloody expensive to buy brand-new, that most people just can’t justify the price. Only someone with hundreds of fakes lying around, will be able to fulfill a request like selling you six or nine or twelve Montblancs all at once.
What’s the Packaging Like?
A NEW Montblanc pen comes in exquisite packaging. Everything is crisp, clean, two-toned black and white, with foam padding and soft, silk-like interiors.
No Montblanc will ever be sold, brand-new, in some cheap, velveteen slip-pouch, or some leather pen-sleeve. All Montblanc pens are sold in-box – sometimes (but not always) with a complimentary bottle of ink, and other trinkets (my 145 Meisterstuck c/c filler came with a CD of Chopin piano music).
Check all Online Photographs
If you’re buying the pen online – ask the dealer for photographs – clear, high resolution photographs – of the clip, the cap-bands, the engravings, the ink-window, the nib and the filling mechanism of the pen.
No seller of fake Montblancs will ever oblige with these photographs. And if they do – then they’re hoping that you’re going to be stupid enough to not-know that they’re selling fake Montblancs. Someone selling a real Montblanc will always do their best to give you the best photographs they possibly can. So, what should you pay attention to?
I am so glad you asked…
Fake Montblanc Fountain Pens – What to Look For
As I said earlier – the Montblanc Meisterstuck 149 has a current retail price of – depending on where you bought it – $900 – $1,200+.
For that kind of money, you expect to buy something that is – in every way possible – the very definition of writing perfection. A Montblanc 149 should be literally flawless in all respects, with absolutely nothing wrong with it at all in any capacity whatsoever.
Fakes always have something wrong with them.
So – what wrong things should you be looking for?
Check the Nib
First thing’s first – check the nib.
A REAL Montblanc fountain pen nib is made of 14 or 18kt gold. They always have been, and always will be. Every Montblanc nib has “4810” on it (the height of Mont Blanc in meters), and the purity of the gold in ’14k’ or ’18k’, with either 585 or 750, underneath. In case you’re wondering – that stands for 58.5% gold, or 75% gold (the rest is copper, to give the nib strength and durability). Gold purity changes on Montblanc nibs across their pen-range. Some pens have 14k, others have 18k. But this isn’t set in stone. My 145 and 149 both have 14k nibs, but I have seen other MB 146s and 149s which have 18k nibs.
Nib porn!
What is consistent is that the nibs are always two-toned – gold, and silver (although it’s actually rhodium). Again, there’s no set system to this and the same model of pen can alternate between 14k and 18k, two-tone with gold exterior and rhodium interior, gold interior and rhodium exterior, gold with a rhodium band…the designs change constantly, to keep things fresh.
With that said – how the hell do you tell what a real Montblanc nib is? Here’s how:
If your ‘Montblanc’ has a nib that says “IPG” or “Iridium Point Germany” on it – run away.
If the engraving on your Montblanc nib isn’t utterly gorgeous and flawless in every way possible – run away.
If your Montblanc nib is engraved AT ALL – run away. Montblanc nibs are formed and molded – NOT engraved.
If the nib is scratchy or otherwise defective – then it’s not a real Montblanc nib. If the pen is secondhand, then it may be a real Montblanc, of which the nib was damaged, which would have to be reformed or replaced – but no Monblanc fresh out of the box, will have a defective nib of any kind – remember – $1,200 pen here. A brand new Montblanc with a defective nib is like a brand-new Rolls Royce with a massive dent in the passenger-door…it does not exist.
If the nib looks like gold-plated steel – then it’s not a real Montblanc. All Montblanc pens, without exception – have solid gold nibs. Even if you dropped the pen and sent it back to the factory to have it repaired – the new nib will be solid gold. There is no such thing as a Montblanc fountain pen with a steel nib. They do not exist. If you see one – it’s a fake.
Check the Cap Bands
Montblanc pens are famous for their cap-bands – the three gold rings near the bottom of the cap.
When fountain pens were first invented in the 1890s – caps did not have bands. They were added in as an afterthought in the 1910s and 20s, to reinforce the cap, and prevent it from cracking and splitting from someone screwing the cap onto the pen too tightly. To a certain extent, cap bands still fulfill this function, although these days, they’re largely decorative in nature.
So – you might as well enjoy the decoration, and take a nice, close look at it.
The seam between the cap-rings and the cap should be flawless. The engravings on the cap-bands with the company name, and the model number or name of the pen, should also be flawless. Remember, you’re paying for a pen which costs hundreds, or even thousands of dollars – it had bloody well better be perfect!
If there’s any flaws at all – it’s not a real Montblanc – put it down, and back away.
Check the Resin Body
Here’s another one you may not be aware of – Montblanc pens are made of a particular type of resin plastic, designed to be scratch resistant, and highly lustrous. Pick up the pen – unscrew the cap and hold it up to the light – or, failing that – shine a light-source through the cap.
A REAL Montblanc cap is not actually completely black – it’s translucent – light shines THROUGH the cap – and it shines through as a very dark, maroon wine red colour.
If your cap doesn’t have that dark red translucency when you shine a light through it – yep – it’s fake!
Check the Filling System
Unless it’s a 144, a 145 (which are cartridge and/or converter fountain pens), or one of Montblanc’s older, lower-tier vintage models, almost without exception – all Montblanc fountain pens are piston-filling fountain pens with striated ink windows above the section threads.
What is a piston-filling fountain pen? Perhaps you don’t know? No problem!
A piston-fill pen is a fountain pen with an IN-BUILT filling mechanism whereby ink is sucked INTO the pen using a piston mechanism. This is operated by turning the piston-knob at the top of the pen, under the blind-cap (in the case of Montblanc pens, the blind-cap and the piston-knob are one-and-the-same).
No Montblanc fountain pen larger than a 145 will ever have a separate – removable – piston-converter – inside it. The way to fill a pen such as a 146, or a 149, is to:
Uncap the pen.
Insert the pen into a bottle of ink.
Unscrew the blind cap at the top of the pen, as far as it will comfortably go (DO NOT FORCE IT).
Screw the blind cap back down until it’s secure.
Remove the pen from the bottle of ink, and wipe down the nib.
If someone is trying to sell you a Montblanc 149 or 146, or any other Montblanc pen which has a piston-filler mechanism inside it – and says that they have “extra refills” for sale – or spare converters, or something – run away.
Nobody who is selling a 146 or the larger 149, and knows what it is – will say that it takes ‘refills’ – there is NO SUCH THING as a ‘refill’ for a Montblanc 149 fountain pen – the only ‘refill’ that exists is a bottle of fountain pen ink, and that is the only thing they take. If someone shows you photographs of their Montblanc Meisterstuck 149, which they have for sale, and the pen has been pulled apart at the section, just above the nib – then either the pen is fake, or they’ve just snapped a $1,200 pen in half.
Look for the Ink Window
While we’re on the subject of filling up the pen – another thing that usually differentiates a real Montblanc from a fake one is the presence of the ink-window on all Montblanc Meisterstuck 146 and 149 piston-fill fountain pens.
The ink window is that little striped clear area on the pen barrel, just above the section threads. The point of the ink window is so that you can see the ink inside the pen…duh! Real Meisterstucks have ink windows…fake ones do not. If your Meisterstuck 149 or 146 does not have an ink window, it’s not real. While we’re on it, the 145 doesn’t have an ink window because it’s a converter pen, and therefore doesn’t need one.
Check the Clip
When buying a suspect Montblanc, check the clip at the top of the cap. Since about 1990, every Montblanc fountain pen has been sold with a SERIAL NUMBER engraved into the clip-band at the top of the cap. The number is ALWAYS on the ring to the RIGHT of the clip and every serial number is unique. No two pens ever have the same number.
Montblanc Meisterstucks – made in the decadent and extravagant capitalist bastion of West Germany!
While we’re looking at the clip – check for the word “PIX”. This is usually underneath the clip itself and is part of the clip – so if it’s been engraved in separately, then it’s not real.
Check the Paperwork
If the pen comes with any type of paperwork, or extras like cartridges or a converter or something – look at the text on them. In particular, check the spelling of “Montblanc”.
Yes, I’m serious.
The company name is MONTBLANC – Not Monblanc, not Mont Blanc, not Mount Blanc. It is – MONTBLANC – one word. There is a “Mont Blanc” – which is the name of a mountain in France – after which the company is named. But the actual company itself has always been called MONTBLANC. If it isn’t – then it ain’t real.
Fake? Or Just Old?
All the information posted above, relates, by and large, to modern Montblanc fountain pens, manufactured, and sold, right now.
It does not necessarily relate to vintage, or antique Montblanc pens.
Because Montblanc pens are so expensive, it can be tempting to buy a secondhand one, vintage, online, or at a flea-market or something like that. And there is nothing wrong with that. The problem arises when you have to decide if the pen you’re buying is a fake…or just old?
Older Montblanc pens (Pre-1990, generally) will not have “PIX” on them anywhere. They will not have serial numbers, and the packaging may appear rather simplistic by modern standards – but that doesn’t mean that they are not Montblancs. For example – vintage Montblanc 149s had “149” actually stamped into the blind-cap at the back of the pen – did you know that? Did you also know that they used to be made of celluloid, not resin plastic?
And let’s not forget that the Montblanc 149 was introduced in 1952. This means that the pen is very much a product of its time – and that time was the Cold War.
So what does this mean for Montblanc? Well, it means that the clip-ring at the top of the pen says “W-GERMANY”, not just “GERMANY”. Why? Because it was produced in West Germany, during the Cold War. This is just one of the many subtle changes to Montblanc pens that you should be aware of, if you decide to go out and buy a secondhand or vintage model.
Closing Statements
Well, there you have it! How to spot a fake Montblanc 149 Meisterstuck (or any of its little brothers). I tried to make this as succinct a guide as possible, but the fact is that fakes are getting so much better these days that you really can’t leave anything out.
If you’re buying a Montblanc online or secondhand from anyone who isn’t a registered Montblanc distributor, or from the company itself, you really do have to be very careful. Fakes are certainly out there, and you can end up buying one, if you’re not careful – a friend of mine did that a few years ago at a pen show. It was a hard pill to swallow.
My first love has always been the art of writing. I love just being able to relax, and let my mind run free. I love being able to let thoughts flow and form as they will, and transcribe them into something strange and wonderful, weird and whimsical.
For this reason, the right type of writing instrument has always been very important to me. Just as a concert pianist will insist on a Steinway, or a violinist will insist on a Stradivarius, or a chef will insist on Wusthoff, writers who want to use quality writing instruments also insist on certain brands of pens. In America, names like Parker, Sheaffer, Waterman, and Wahl-Eversharp spring to mind. In Japan, companies like Pilot or Namiki, or Sailor are most prominent. In Europe, you have Visconti, Conway-Stewart, and Pelikan.
But of all these dozens of pen-companies from all over the world, one particular company – and one particular model – has always stood out. That company is Montblanc, and the pen, is the Meisterstuck 149.
Much has been said, written and filmed, about the Meisterstuck 149, and in this posting, I’ll be going into a bit of the pen’s history, and why it has attained such a position as it has, among the world of not only writing, but of luxury products in general.
What is ‘Montblanc’?
Montblanc is a luxury retail company founded in Germany in 1906. The name comes from “Mont Blanc”, the tallest mountain in Europe. Mont Blanc, which is located in France, was taken as the company’s name to symbolise the fact that this company was the pinnacle of excellence in every way possible. The white star on the cap of every Montblanc pen is meant to represent the white snowcap of Mont Blanc, and the “4810” on every nib represents the mountain’s height in meters.
While today, Montblanc make all kinds of products, from leathergoods to watches and a wide range of writing instruments – originally – Montblanc was simply a pen company – and its goal was to make simple, good-quality, no-nonsense pens that worked.
What is a ‘Meisterstuck’?
In 1924, Montblanc introduced a new line of pens: The Meisterstuck (“Masterpiece”) Line (“Mys-ter-stook”), which was intended to be the company’s first-tier, first-class, top-quality range of luxury writing instruments! Between 1924 through the 1930s and 40s, Montblanc experimented with various models and styles, partially inspired by streamline styling which was highly fashionable in the late 20s and early 30s and 40s.
My West-German Montblanc Meisterstuck 149 (Ca. 1980)
Based in Hamburg, a major German port-town, Montblanc’s facilities were flattened by the Allies during World War Two as the British and Americans aimed to cripple as much as possible, Germany’s manufacturing (and therefore, war-making) capabilities. When the war was over, however, Montblanc and Hamburg found itself in the new West German republic. Eager to turn over a new leaf and bring prosperity back, Montblanc rebuilt itself and went back to manufacturing their fabled Meisterstuck line, complete with the white star logo, and lifetime guarantees on all its pens.
What is a ‘149’?
The Montblanc Meisterstuck #149 is the company’s most famous pen-model BY FAR. It is instantly recognisible to any collector of fountain pens, or follower of pop culture, or connoisseur of luxury products.
But…why? Why this pen? Why this particular model? What makes it so special? And for that matter – what does ‘149’ even mean?
‘149’ refers to the original coding system used by Montblanc, when this particular model was introduced in 1952. “1” refers to the product-line. In this case – the Meisterstuck Line. “4” referred to the filling mechanism (pens with ‘4’ were piston-fillers), and the “9” referred to the size of the nib. So a Model 149 was a Meisterstuck piston-filler with a #9 nib.
MB 149 (left) next to the much smaller MB 145
From the 1950s to the 60s and 70s, Meisterstuck 149s were made of celluloid plastic – the same substance used to make similar fountain pens in the 1920s and 30s. Celluloid plastic is very strong (Parker used to chuck their pens out of office windows to prove their durability!), but it has one drawback – it discolours. Blues darken, reds fade, greens turn brown and black can fade to brown. In the case of Montblanc 149s, the striated ink-window, just above the section would discolour to a unsightly yellow-brown colour.
This is why, in the 80s and 90s (and still today), Montbanc pens started being made out of a more stable resin plastic, which was smoother, more colour-fast, was more resistant to scratching and staining, and held a high-gloss finish better than celluloid did.
Montblanc and Status
Like Tiffany & Company, Rolex, Louis Vuitton and Moet & Chandon, the name ‘Montblanc’ has, for over 100 years, been a hallmark of quality, and a status-symbol. But what was it that earned Montblanc pens, and particularly, the 149, this particular status?
One of the main reasons why Montblanc has attained the position that it has was because of the state of American manufacturing.
Between the 1850s to the 1950s, America, Germany and Britain really competed in the market of consumer-goods. Duesenberg, Rolls Royce, Parker, Sheaffer, Singer, Siedel & Naumann, Saville Row, Rolex, Royal, Remington-Rand, Ball, Hamilton, Waltham, Elgin…at one point, all these companies were household names. But how many of them do you actually recognise?
Up until about 1960, American manufacturing was among the best in the world. American watch companies like Waltham, Ball, Elgin, Gruen and Hampden, made the best watches in the world, comparable with anything made in Europe. The same was true of American pen companies like Parker, Sheaffer, and Waterman. But American manufacturing of high-quality consumer-goods took a BIG hit post-WWII, so much so that by the late 1950s, almost all these companies had either died off, or were bought out or moved manufacturing offshore – for example, Parker ended up in England and Waterman ended up in France…where they still are today.
The collapse of the American pen manfacturing industry meant that other companies – mostly European ones, started taking over. Brands like Pelikan, or Conway Stewart, Onoto, Swan and…Montblanc…started replacing Parker, Sheaffer and Waterman while these companies were in transition between new owners…or in the case of companies like Wahl-Eversharp – dying a slow and quiet death.
But why did Montblanc, of all companies, rise to fore? Why not some other company?
Part of it had to do with marketing. Companies like Conway Stewart, Onoto or Platignum (yes, there is a ‘g’ in there) did not make ‘luxury’ pens – they made solid second-tier everyday writing pens. They were not interested in making luxury products – they merely wanted to make nice products which were attractive, and worked, and which were affordable to the everyperson in the street.
Montblanc, on the other hand, was really aiming for that high-end market. With American pen manufacturing companies in limbo in the 1950s, companies like Montblanc surged forwards to fill in the luxury market once held by Parker and Sheaffer, and the company’s list of customers and clients started to grow.
The rise of the 149
As Montblanc started taking over in the 1950s, replacing or outselling other pen companies, people started taking notice – especially when it brought out the 149.
It’s fair to say that in the 1940s, 50s and 60s – most companies were not producing huge pens. Parker made a few Oversized English Duofolds, but the vast majority of pens made during this time were rather standard-sized – so this would’ve made an oversized luxury pen, such as the 149 – stand out even more. And because it stood out so much more, people started taking notice of it. People like President John F. Kennedy, and English writer Iris Murdoch. Kennedy’s use of the Montblanc 149 is particularly notable because it was used during a major televised event, which did much to boost the pen’s popularity and notoriety.
Ever since, the Montblanc 149 has been a status symbol. Rightly or wrongly, it’s a pen that everybody recognises, and which most people have heard of. Its classic black and gold profile has been imitated by countless manufacturers, both expensive and cheap, and has appeared in countless magazines, movies and television shows for decades now. It has been used by famous actors, world leaders and celebrities the world over, and continues to enjoy the reputation that it has held for nearly seventy years!
The Montblanc Meisterstuck 149 – A Pen Review
In closing off this article, I thought I’d write an actual review of the pen. So, here goes…
Value for Money
There is no denying that the Montblanc 149 is a very expensive pen. Where I’m at, they currently retail for about $1,250.00. In an age when most people would struggle to justify spending $50.00 on a fountain pen, and when most collectors would struggle to spend $250.00 on a fountain pen, it is by far, one of the most expensive models out there.
Good thing I did’t pay that much. I got mine secondhand at auction, and paid just over $200 for it, which is about 80% cheaper than the RRP!!
But, the actual price aside – is the pen value for money?
In my opinion – yes. Status and branding aside, the 149 is a solidly constructed pen. While some say that a lot of the price goes into the status and the branding and the image, I would also argue that a lot of the price goes into the quality of the manufacturing – after all, you’re buying something from a company with a big reputation, and with a big reputation to lose, if what you buy isn’t absolutely first-class, for the money you just spent on it.
The 149 is a very robust pen. It’s well-made, it’s elegant, and they last for decades with minimal maintenance. Occasional cleaning to prevent buildup of dried ink, and the odd nib-polishing will keep the pen fresh, clean and functional for many decades – the model I bought was made back in the 80s, and I didn’t have to do a single thing to it, to get it to work.
Ease of Use
Is the Montblanc 149 comfortable to use? Yes, it is. The plastic resin is smooth to the hand, and the nib writes like ice on glass. For such a large pen, it is actually surprisingly light in the hand, which means that your wrist and fingers won’t feel weighed down or unbalanced while writing – very important for a pen which you might spend a lot of time using!
The only slight issue is the pen’s size. While it isn’t heavy, it is long. And this may cause discomfort for some people in the sense that the pen may be unbalanced if you try and write with it, with the cap posted. If you have larger hands, then this might not be a problem (in fact, it may be an advantage), but in general, writing with this pen posted isn’t my idea of comfortable.
The Filling Mechanism
The 149 has a built-in piston filling mechanism. Unscrewing the end-cap forces the plunger down, expelling ink, and screwing the cap back down draws ink up, as the plunger is pulled back up. On my pen, this action is smooth and without issue. On some vintage MB 149s, the piston may become stiff from years of use.
To repair this, the piston-unit itself must be removed from the pen, and a fresh layer of silicone grease must be applied to the piston, before the unit is screwed back into the pen. To avoid damaging the screw-threads, a special piston wrench should be used, to remove the unit from the pen, and to reinstall it after fresh lubricant has been applied.
Any potential faults aside, though, I found the filling mechanism to be smooth and easy to use, and the ink window was clear and easy to use to gauge the amount of ink inside the pen. One advantage of a piston-filler over, say, a converter-filler pen or a cartridge pen, is that they do hold considerably more ink than a pen of similar size which is not a piston-filler. If you do a lot of writing, or if you’re planning on traveling a lot, and need a pen with high ink capacity, then this is certainly an area where the 149 has a distinct advantage.
The Nib
This pen has a 14kt gold nib, which is a sort of…wet, Medium-Fine. Wet nibs are better in the sense that they write smoother, with the ink lubricating the pen-point, but at the same time, overly wet nibs can be a struggle on cheaper paper, with the excess ink soaking through the page, and causing bleed-through and feathering.
In my experience, even FINE Montblanc nibs are quite wet, though. If you like wet nibs, then this isn’t going to be a problem for you, but you may need to upgrade your paper-game a bit, to find something that doesn’t feather like mad. Rhodia paper seems to be quite compatible in this regard.
Size of the Pen
The Montblanc 149 is one of the largest pens out there. While it’s light, and this makes it easier to write with, it’s also very chunky and quite long. It is sold as an “oversized” pen, after all, and certainly lives up to that! If you have especially Trumpian hands, then the MB 149 might not be for you, because of just how thick and chunky the section is. Trying to get your fingers around something so large might be awkward.
However, people with average and larger-sized hands should have no problem gripping the pen. In fact, larger sections can sometimes be an advantage in writing, because they spread the fingers out more, and make for a more relaxed, comfortable writing experience, rather than forcing all the fingers to cramp up around a small section.
Should you Buy a 149?
That can be a tricky question to answer. Is it worth the money? I think yes. Is it easy to use? Yes, unless you have particularly small hands (so for example, if you’re a smaller lady, or if you have particularly small hands, I would reconsider it and choose something else). Is it easy to fill and operate? Yes. It is lightweight and balanced? Yes. Is it going to get you noticed?
Oh Hell yes!
About the only caveat I would put on buying a Montblanc 149, is the price. As I said right at the start – the Montblanc 149 is a VERY expensive pen. Just the base model costs over $1,000 already. That being the case, I would suggest (unless money is really no object), that you buy a vintage or secondhand Monblanc 149, in good condition, instead.
If you like the piston-filling style of the 149, but not the price and the size – try the Montblanc 146 – which is everything that the 149 is – but one size down. If you want the Meisterstuck style without the piston-filling capability, then the MB 145 (next size down again) is also an option – that’s a cartridge/converter pen, which is both smaller, and lighter.
“What do you make of it, Watson?” “Why should I make anything of it? The fellow came to see you!” “Ah! But what kind of a fellow? Let me hear you reconstruct him – from his walking stick – by our usual method of elementary observation!”
‘The Hound of the Baskervilles’ (B. Rathbone, N. Bruce, 1939).
In this posting, we’ll be looking at the history, styles, designs, types, anatomy and function of walking sticks, an aide and accessory so old that it goes far into prehistoric times. So – as Pierce Brosnan said in “Around the World in 80 Days”: ‘I trust you have some stout shoes? We may do a little walking!‘.
What Is a Walking Stick?
A walking stick is a mobility-aid or fashion accessory which has existed since time immemorial. It has lasted in one form or another for literally thousands of years, and they continue to be manufactured in the modern world, for everything from looking stylish, to keeping your balance, for hiking, camping, and mountain-climbing.
A standard walking stick varies considerably in length, anywhere from about 30 to 45 inches. Some sticks can be five or six feet in length! But, where do they come from?
A History of Walking Sticks
Walking sticks of every size, shape and description have existed for millennia. Every culture and civilisation, from Ancient Rome to Ancient China, pre-Columbian America and the Middle East.
For much of history, a walking stick was…simply…a stick. A branch of convenient length, thickness and strength, which could be cut, shaved and modified to be used as a mobility aid.
Walking sticks as we might recognise them today, started becoming a thing in the 1500s and 1600s. Since medieval times, it had been de-rigeur for gentlemen to carry a sword while out in public, as a means of self-defense. However, this started being seen as confrontational, and by the 1600s, was no longer socially acceptable, unless it was part of military dress-uniform or other similar situations.
In a time when most people walked everywhere, unless they owned a horse and carriage, or a boat and lived near a major river, walking sticks naturally took the place of the sword in polite society. Remember also, that paved roads (with the exception of the Ancient Romans, perhaps) are a relatively modern phenomenon. Muddy tracks, cobblestones, and dirt or grassy roads were the norm for much of human history. Using a stick while walking helped you keep your balance while navigating pot-holes, ruts and gullies worn into the road by other travelers.
Some people, such as the elderly, the infirm or those suffering from some permanent injury or disability, might well have carried a stick for purely practical purposes, to help them move around, but increasingly, carrying a walking stick was seen largely as being a fashion accessory. Much like how you might carry around your smartphone today, back in the 1600s, 1700s and 1800s, carrying around a walking-stick was done for both practical, and fashionable reasons. Having a flashy walking stick, possibly made of rare or expensive materials, was seen as a status-symbol, and they lent an air of superiority and higher social standing to the user.
Apart from this, with most people walking everywhere, a stick was useful on a practical level. Carrying a stick took some of the pressure and wear off of your shoes and feet – important, when you might well be walking for several hours every day. Having something to lean or rest on, was important for the purpose of personal comfort.
The Anatomy of a Walking Stick
A classic walking stick was typically comprised of four parts. I’ll go through each one in detail and give a bit of their history.
The Shaft
The shaft is the length of wood which makes up the walking-stick’s body. Traditionally, shafts were made out of a wide variety of wood, such as oak, blackthorn, etc. Some sticks were made of brass, some were even made of ivory – the long tusks of the narwhal were a popular material for making walking-sticks.
In some instances, walking sticks were made out of more unusual substances. A popular material for shafts was rattan cane, which was both strong, and flexible. They were particularly popular in the Far East, but also in Britain; such a type of cane is mentioned in the Sherlock Holmes novel “The Hound of the Baskervilles“.
The Handle
The handle, or grip of the walking stick is the area at the top, grasped by the user’s hand. Some walking sticks had very plain, curved wooden handles, which were simply the end of the shaft being bent over to create a hook. However, from the 1600s onwards, and even into the modern day – handles made of a wide variety of materials have been popular.
Handles have been made of brass, silver, ivory, glass, pool-balls, horn, tusk, bits of pipe…almost anything and everything imaginable. During the 1700s and 1800s, silver, brass, wood, bone and ivory were the most popular materials for making walking stick handles.
Handle shapes were as varied as their materials. The handle might be a simple knob, a hook, or the T-shaped derby-style handle. Handles in the form of an upturned L, which were sometimes made in the form of animal or bird-heads, such as dogs, eagle, rabbits and almost anything else imaginable, were also very popular.
The Collar
The collar is the ring directly underneath the handle, where it joins to the shaft. Not every walking stick has a collar, and not all collars are functional. Some exist purely for aesthetic reasons. Popular collar materials were silver, brass and ivory.
The Ferrule
The ferrule is the end-cap, foot, or base, right at the bottom of the walking-stick. It serves two purposes – to protect the end of the shaft, and to provide the user of the stick with grip, to stop the base of the walking stick from sliding around.
Interesting fact: Ferrule lengths varied over history. As a rule – the longer your ferrule is, the older your stick is. The shorter your ferrule is, the more modern your stick is!
Now, you might ask – why?
Remember when I said further up, that one of the main uses for walking sticks was to navigate terrible roads and paths, to help you keep your balance, and stop you from falling over? Well – because roads were, as a rule, unpaved until recent times – it was very common for a walking-stick to sink into the mud or slop or ooze, especially if you had to put weight on it. This was disadvantageous, because the mud and gunk would get all over the bottom half of your stick…eewww…!!
But also – the mud, or more specifically, the water and moisture, would damage the wood of which your stick was made. Constant exposure to water and mud would cause the wood to swell and crack, and for the end of the stick to wear down. To prevent this, or at least, to minimise it, ferrules were added to the bottom of sticks, and they were made much longer (up to six or eight inches, in some cases!) so as to protect as much of the stick as possible.
As paved roads and pavements became more common, the necessity to protect so much of the lower half of the stick was reduced, and so walking stick ferrules generally get shorter and shorter. In the modern era, most ferrules aren’t more than an inch or two long, compared with four or eight inches, in times past.
The Purpose of Carrying a Stick
While the most common reason for carrying a walking stick was either as a fashion-accessory, or as a mobility aid of some variety, there were many other reasons for carrying one, and these expanded throughout the centuries.
Self-Defense
One of the most common reasons why people carry walking sticks, even into the modern era – is for the purposes of self-defense. State-run police-forces did not become a regular thing until the early 1800s, Because of this, carrying a walking stick when you went out served as both a fashion accessory, but also as a personal defense weapon. With the right skills, someone could disarm or disable an attacker with very little effort.
The heyday for sticks used for personal defense was the Victorian era. A method of self defense was developed during this time, known as “singlestick fighting”. It was a series of classes and courses, which you could take to learn how to defend yourself – using a single walking stick – hence the name. Singlestick fighting was incredibly popular – and photographic manuals existed, demonstrating how to disarm someone, how to trip someone up, how to duck, block and parry an attacker’s movements, and how to turn disadvantages (such as having a shorter stick) into an advantage.
Various moves in singlestick fighting.
Along with the art of singlestick fighting, walking stick manufacturers also made sticks with self-defense capabilities built into them – usually, these were custom-ordered walking sticks, made specifically to a client’s needs. Walking sticks with spring-loaded bayonets, walking sticks with lead-shot inside the handle, and most famously – walking-sticks with swords or daggers inside the handle (“swordsticks”), were particularly common.
Gadget Sticks
Also called “systems sticks”, a gadget stick was a walking stick which served at least two functions. Gadget sticks varied from the mundane, to the fantastic, and everything in between. Gadget sticks had all kinds of additional accessories added into them – compasses, watches, whiskey-flasks hidden inside the shafts, telescopes, and even firearms – Valentin Zhukovsky, in the James Bond films, has a walking-stick with a built-in rifle.
Gadget-sticks were immensely popular, and today, a really unusual, or elaborate gadget-stick can be worth several hundreds, or even thousands of dollars. The more intricate and complicated it is, the more desirable it becomes, and the more value it retains.
While some gadget-sticks had gadgets inside them purely for the fun of it (a whiskey-flask, a compass, a watch, etc, etc), some gadget-sticks were manufactured specifically for particular occupations. For example, an explorer or a surveyor’s stick might have a telescope, a yardstick, a spirit-level and a compass. A doctor’s stick might have pill-boxes and a thermometer. A writer’s stick might have space for pens, spare nibs and a bottle of ink.
The End of the Walking Stick
The walking stick as an aid for mobility has never disappeared, and some people still collect and use antique and vintage sticks for walking on a regular basis. Others still buy their sticks brand-new and use them every day. A friend of mine has carried the same curved wooden walking stick for years, to help with the bodily imbalance caused by his back issues.
But the days of carrying a walking stick as a fashion accessory does seem to have died away. While some people do still uphold this, they do tend to be a minority. The fact is that a walking stick is seldom practical as an accessory in the modern world. We have so many other things to think about and carry – phones, chargers, earphones, tablets, laptops…the last thing we need to carry around is a purely decorative piece of wood.
Quite apart from anything else, one of the main reasons why walking sticks started dying out as a fashion accessory is due to the advancements in transportation.
Prior to the late 1800s, most people walked almost everywhere. Carriages were expensive, trains didn’t reach all places, and bicycles were rare. Because of this, walking was the main mode of transport, which meant that carrying a walking stick, either to aid with balance, to help ease the pressure on one’s feet, or simply as an accessory – was considered acceptable.
However, once cars became popular, and people started doing much less walking in general, sticks fell by the wayside as being impractical and unnecessary. Their popularity continued through the 20th century, but they started being seen increasingly as being more of mobility aid, and more for older people than younger people, and less as a fashion accessory than they once were, which all contributed to their general lack of use in the modern world.
If you’ve been a reader of my blog for any decent length of time, then you’ll know that I love fixing stuff. Usually, that ‘stuff’ is some variety of antique or vintage item. I find it very satisfying to breathe life and rejuvenation into old objects, and items and make them useful, or at least functional, again. If I can repair something instead of throwing it out, I’d rather have it repaired.
For about seven years, I worked as a volunteer in a local charity thrift shop. It was only one shift a week, but it got me out of the house, and I met some really fun and interesting people, who I still hang out with from time to time (if they’re reading this, they know who they are! Hey guys!).
One thing that working in a charity shop made me realise is just how much stuff people really throw out, and how many things people buy that they really don’t need. But sometimes, that’s good, because then we can actually find all kinds of things, which are really nice, for really cheap prices. And sometimes, you can find it even cheaper, if you know what to do with it.
And this brings me to the purpose of today’s posting – buying and repairing old clothing.
Now, first thing’s first – this isn’t going to be a full-on style posting. There’s a million excellent menswear styling sites out there (if you want to find a few, I suggest looking up the Gentlemen’s Gazette, Real Men Real Style, etc) – but this blog, right here – ain’t one of them. I’ll give a couple of pointers and tips, but that’s it.
Finding Stuff at Thrift Shops
These days, bargain-hunting at thrift-shops is very popular. Usually, the amount of stuff being dumped on these places is so high that they HAVE to price it dirt cheap, just to get a high enough turnover rate, so that the stores aren’t snowed under all the time. But this gives you an excellent opportunity to find great stuff at bargain prices. Usually, it’s clothing, but you can find other stuff like antiques, books, homewares and kitchenwares that you didn’t even know existed, and all kinds of other stuff. For the purpose of this posting, however, we’ll be concentrating mostly on clothing, since that’s what most people buy at charity shops.
Always Inspect Everything!
Before you carry your latest prized garment to the front counter to buy it, always check the ENTIRE garment. This goes without saying. Try it on. Make sure it fits. A jacket or coat should always fit in two key areas: The shoulders, and the sleeves.
A jacket or coat shoulder should stop where your shoulder stops. You might get away with it being a finger’s width too wide, or half a finger too narrow, but anymore than that, and it won’t fit properly. Make sure you’re comfortable putting it on and taking it off. Try this a few times to be sure.
With coats and jackets, make sure the sleeves are the right length. What’s the right length?
Stick your arms out to the front and then to the side. A jacket sleeve never goes beyond your wrist-bones. A coat sleeve never goes past the knuckle of your thumb closest to your palm.
What’s the difference? A coat goes over a jacket, but a jacket never goes over a coat. They’re called “overcoats” for a reason, you know.
How long a coat hangs is up to you. A jacket should never drop below your butt. A coat can go all the way down to the ground, if you can find one long enough. Generally, an overcoat will drop to anywhere from mid-thigh to knee-length. Sometimes you can find some which drop even further, but they can be tricky to obtain.
Once you’ve found something you like and have decided that it fits you, make sure that you check everything about the garment! And I mean everything – check for holes, check for moth, check for rips, missing buttons, tears, wear-patches, staining…absolutely everything. Examine every square inch of fabric, and take as long as you have to, to be absolutely sure.
Once you’ve summed up the item’s imperfections, decide whether or not you can live with them. Can you repair them? Can you ignore them? Is anyone going to care about that wine stain on the jacket lining, when nobody’s ever going to see it? Does it matter that you patch the back of your coat, since it’s on the inside and only you’ll know it’s there? Does it matter that that ONE button is SLIGHTLY off, because you had to replace it?
Similarly, do the same thing with shirts, and trousers. Is the rise too high? Too low? Are the jeans pinching your balls? (hey, it had to be asked, OK?), and probably most importantly – that crotch stitching is still holding up, right?
On top of that, the main thing to check with trousers of any kind, apart from the waist, of course, is the inside leg. The inside-leg measurement is taken from the groin down to the ankle. I’m about 5’7″, and my inside-leg is 29 inches, while my waistline measurement is 32 inches. You should always remember stats like this if you intend to go thrift-shopping, and of course, bring a measuring tape with you. That way, you’ll save time by measuring the clothes before you even try them on.
Buying clothes at thrift-shops is always a gamble and always a compromise. You have to decide:
What can you accept? What can you excuse? What can you let slide or get away with, or not worry about?
Certain things should never be compromised on. Never buy anything that doesn’t fit, never buy anything that can’t be repaired, never buy anything that you’re not comfortable wearing (either physically or mentally), and never buy anything that cannot be cleaned properly. There’s no point buying something if you can’t get the stains out or can’t repair it. Moth holes, for example – forget it.
On the other hand, some things you can get away with. Oh it’s missing buttons? Whatever. Buy some new ones and replace them. Oh, it’s got a hole in the lining? If it doesn’t bother you, then don’t be bothered by it. Nobody’s going to see it anyway. Likewise, holes in pockets can be sewn up, and so on.
What Can You Repair?
That really depends on what your skills are. My grandmother was a dressmaker for forty years. When I was a child, she taught me all kinds of basic sewing skills. How to thread a needle, how to sew on a button, how to measure, how to chalk cloth, how to cut, how to leave seam-allowances, how to stitch, cut and sew buttonholes, and all kinds of other things. These are all things which are useful skills, if you want to buy vintage clothing or secondhand stuff at thrift-shops. So, if you do intend to buy clothes from thrift-shops, what basic sewing skills should you know, to try and repair and revive clothes to bring them back to life?
Below is a short list of a few skills that you might need to know, but first…
What Stuff Do you Need?
My 1930s Singer vibrating shuttle machine. It only does one thing, but it does it very well!
If you intend to repair clothes that you bought at a thrift-shop, you should have the following: Needles, thread, pin-cushion with pins, tailors’ chalk, a measuring tape or ruler, an iron, a thimble, a seam-cutter, a needle-threader, scissors, and ideally – a functioning sewing machine that you know how to use.
Sewing on a Button – Difficulty – EASY
Let’s start dead simple – everyone should know how to sew on a button. To determine where the button should be sewn, either use the existing buttons on the garment as a measuring guide, or else use the opposing buttonhole as a guide. Mark this with chalk, and then thread and knot your needle. Feed the needle through the cloth from the INSIDE of the shirt, going out. And then feed the button through the needle and down onto the shirt.
How many times you sew the button up against the shirt is up to you, but be sure that you do it evenly and use all the available threading-holes. Your button threading can either look like an “X”, an “O”, or an “H”, but keep the threading consistent – either do it twice, four times, six times or eight times. Don’t do it an odd number of times, because then it looks sloppy. Above all, make sure that the stitches are tight and even. When you’re done, stitch the needle through one of the stitches behind the button, tie a knot and cut the thread. Done!
Not all buttons are created equal, however. Due to the thicker fabrics, coat and jacket-buttons should not be stitched TOO tightly against the garment. If they are, then you’ll find them harder to button due to the thicker fabrics and the chunkier, larger buttons used to hold your garment closed. So long as the button is firmly anchored to the jacket or coat, you can leave a TINY amount of slackness in the stitching, maybe an eighth of an inch, or even less, but certainly not more.
If you’re trying to find buttons for a garment because some are missing, and you think it’d be easier just to replace ALL the buttons at once, one way to do this is to find a coat or jacket of a similar colour and style, but which is unwearable (because it’s filled with holes, or has massive stains on it, etc), and cut off all the buttons (if it has a full set) and simply use those to re-button your better-condition garment. Keep the original buttons from your first garment in a button-box or tin for use in other emergencies.
Tip: If you’re sewing through particularly thick fabric (heavy wool, for example, or several layers of fabric at once), then make sure you have a thimble! It’ll save you from being pricked and poked as you try and yank and push that needle through. It may only be a few milimeters thick, but there’s a lot of friction between the fabric and the needle when you’re sewing something. I have a few antique silver thimbles that I keep in my sewing box, but whatever you can find is probably suitable enough – just make sure it’s nothing smooth, like those kitschy little porcelain ones – it needs to have dimples on it, to catch the point of the needle and to stop it sliding around everywhere!
Pinning Clothes – Difficulty – EASY
One of the most important things that you’ll need to know when repairing clothes is how to pin fabric. Is a sleeve coming off? Is the lining coming undone? Did you tear your waistcoat shoulder and need to sew it back together? (That happened to me once, and it was a frustrating repair!). For all these applications and more, you need to know how to pin stuff.
For this, you’ll need a bunch of tailor’s pins. They’re easily purchased in-bulk from any fabric and craft store, sometimes even at supermarkets. Best to buy two or three packets – they don’t always last very long.
The point of these pins (no pun intended!…OK not much of one, anyway…) is to hold two or more pieces of fabric together, and to stop it from sliding or coming apart when you’re trying to sew them back together.
After positioning the two pieces of fabric how you want them to be sewn together – take your pins – which should be housed in a pin-cushion – and feed them through the fabric, one at a time – parallel to the seam that you’ll be sewing. This is to allow the two pieces of fabric to lie flat and straight – if you pin perpendicular to the seam, the fabric may bunch up or pull out of alignment while sewing – and you certainly don’t want that!
While pinning, make sure that the pins go straight through both layers of fabric, and then back out through both layers of fabric. Make sure that the pin goes all the way through, and all the way out, but also, that the pin goes in and out through the fabric over the shortest distance possible – this gives you enough leeway for the pin to move (which it may do, while you’re sewing) without sliding out of the fabric entirely (which is a possibility) and ruining the end effect!
Hemming Trousers – Difficulty – MEDIUM
This is something that I reckon every well-dressed guy, and any girl who wears trousers or jeans – should know – HOW TO HEM YOUR TROUSERS! I’m constantly amazed at how many of my friends have no idea how to do this.
Finding a pair of jeans or trousers that fit you great in the waist, but which are too long, is a problem for a lot of people. Chances are that nothing will fit you perfectly off the rack, no matter how much weight you lose or sit-ups you try to do. That’s just the reality of life. Some shops (such as Uni Qlo, for example) do offer an in-store alteration-service for a nominal fee, and if you want to, you can do that, if you buy something from a store, brand-new. But if you’re buying from a thrift-shop, you don’t have that option. So you either have to pay someone to do it (which I would never bother doing), or you do it yourself.
First, you gotta figure out your inside-leg. To figure that out, get a pair of trousers that already fit you really well, and measure the inside-leg. That’s taken from the middle of the crotch-seam, down the INSIDE of the trouser-leg to the bottom of the hem – by inside, I mean the inner-side of the trouser leg, as opposed to the outer-side, not the literal inside of the trousers where the seams are hidden. Am I making sense here??
That measurement is your inside-leg. For most people, it’ll be between 26 – 40 inches, depending on how tall you are. If you’re really tall, then it could be as much as 50 inches. Either way, remember that length and then measure it out on the pair of trousers you want to hem. Mark that point on the trouser-leg with chalk and then rule a line along the bottom of the trouser-leg at that mark. Make sure the trouser-leg is flat and your ruler is straight!
Depending on how much fabric is below this line, you can either hem straight away, or you might want to cut off some of the excess fabric. If you have more than an inch and a half of fabric, I’d suggest trimming it off.
Once you’ve made your measurement and it’s ready to hem – fold the excess fabric UP inside the trouser leg. Here, you might want to iron it, to set a crease so it doesn’t flop around. Next step is to pin the hem. Using tailor’s pins, pin the hem so that the fabric stays in place while you sew it in your new hemline using a sewing machine. Make sure that you sew the hem so that the new line of stitches is as close to the edge of the folded-up fabric as possible, and not the new hemline – otherwise all the loose, unsupported fabric inside your trouser-leg will flop back down and you’ll have a bitch of a time trying to put your trousers on later. This is also why I suggest removing excess fabric – it just gets in the way.
Cutting buttonholes – Difficulty – MEDIUM
I don’t know anybody who cuts their own buttonholes, but I have done, on occasion. It’s not strictly always necessary, but in some instances, it may be.
About a week ago, I was at my local flea market, looking for a new winter overcoat. I lucked out and found a lovely 60-40 wool-poly blended navy blue peacoat. It fit decently in the shoulders and arms, and it was a longer cut, going down to almost my knees, which I liked, because I believe overcoats should be as long as possible without looking awkward.
The thing about peacoats is that they’re double-breasted – they are ALWAYS double-breasted. There is no such thing as a single-breasted peacoat. I don’t own anything that’s double-breasted (apart from one grey jacket) and I thought it’d be fun to buy a double-breasted overcoat. It’s different, it was in a colour I liked, a style that suited me, a size that fit me, and had features which I liked – namely that it buttoned right up to the throat, which is great in freezing winter weather!!
But – it only buttons up on one side – left over right.
I’m a firm believer that if you’re going to do something, you should do it as right as you can – what’s the point of having a double-breasted overcoat which only buttons up on one side? So, I took it home and made extra buttons on the other side, so that I could overlap the coat either direction.
To make new buttonholes, you will need:
A sewing machine, thread, a needle and thread, tailor’s chalk, and a pair of very sharp, pointed-tip scissors.
First thing’s first – mark where the buttonhole is going to be, and how long it’s going to be, compared to the diameter of the button that’s going to go through it. If you have the button handy – use that as a guide. Use tailor’s chalk to mark the boundaries of the buttonhole that you wish to make.
Next step is to sew a rectangle using your sewing machine – bordering around the chalk-marks you made.
After that, you need to make the actual hole itself. Always sew the boundaries of the buttonhole before doing this – the point of the stitching is to ARREST and PREVENT any unwanted tearing or fraying in the fabric. If you don’t do the reinforcing rectangle first, then all you’ll get is a huge bloody hole in your coat that’s of no use to anybody.
To cut the hole, use sharp, pointed-tip scissors. If you can get them, there are specific buttonhole scissors that exist – but if you can’t get them, then any scissors like what I described, will do. Pierce the fabric and feed the blade of the scissors through, and then cut along the chalk-mark inside the stitched border. Make sure that the button slips through comfortably, but not too loosely.
The final step is to reinforce the buttonhole. If you do not do this, then the fraying edges of the buttonhole will cause the entire thing to fall apart. Get your needle and thread, and sew around the edge of the buttonhole using a whipstitch, or overcast stitch – these are designed to furl over the edge of the fabric, and therefore prevent it from wearing out and unwraveling. Make the stitches as tight and as close together as possible to produce a neat, even appearance. Once it’s done, tie off the thread, snip the excess, and you’re done!
Of course, if you want to use a sewing machine, you can do that too – and use a buttonhole attachment, but if you’re not confident with using one, or don’t have one, then this is the most traditional way of doing it. It’s an easy way of adding buttonholes to garments that you find secondhand and want to alter to your own tastes or uses.
Blind Stitching – Difficulty – EASY
Blind stitching the name given to the method by which two pieces of fabric are sewn together, without there being a visible seam or stitches. The stitching is done in such a way that it is ‘blind’, or invisible.
Blind stitching is useful if you’re trying to sew seams back together that have come apart, but you don’t want it to be obvious that you’ve done a homemade repair – you want it to look like it was never damaged in the first place!
Blind stitching is easily accomplished with a simple needle and thread. It involves sewing the two pieces of fabric together in such a way that the thread holding the two pieces together cannot be seen from one side (usually, the outside!). So, how is this done?
To successfully carry out a blind stitching operation, you sew the two pieces of fabric together by passing the needle through the fabric, without poking all the way through. Basically, you catch threads or fibres of the fabric, pull your needle through, catch the fibres or threads of the other fabric, and pull the needle through that. On the other side of the two pieces of fabric – there shouldn’t be any hole or any thread visible.
Blind stitching is relatively easy – but it has to be done slowly, and carefully if you want a neat and presentable finish. Best to do it when you’re bored, and lonely, sitting down watching TV or YouTube videos, because you won’t want anybody trying to actively steal your attention while you’re doing this. The only slight disadvantage with blind stitching is that since the stitches don’t pass all the way through the two pieces of fabric, it may not be as strong as conventional stitching. You can remedy this by making the stitches more numerous or tighter, to give the seam some extra strength!
Darn it! – Difficulty – MEDIUM
You might’ve heard of darning from reading old books, or watching period movies, old TV shows, or possibly, from speaking to your grandparents. It’s that thing that grandma did late at night when there was nothing else going on. But what is it?
Darning is a process whereby clothes are repaired. To be specific, it’s a method for repairing, filling in or patching holes, usually in thick, knitted or woven fabrics and garments such as scarves, jumpers, cardigans, beanies, mittens etc. It doesn’t really work that well with thinner fabrics or fabrics with a tight weave, like cotton.
Darning is a process whereby you fill in the hole created by the loose, or missing threads, by weaving in fresh thread to replace it. First, you identify the hole that needs darning. Then, you get your needle and thread. Ideally, you want a thread that matches the colour of the fabric as closely as possible.
Prepare your needle and thread as you usually do, and then tuck the point of the needle through the weave in the fabric, near the edge of the hole that you’re trying to darn. For a neater finished appearance – darn from the INSIDE of the garment, so that none of the fiddly bits – like that knot you tied in the end of your thread – are visible when the darning is completed.
Pull the thread across the hole and through a weave in the fabric at the other edge. Then repeat the process going back the other way. And back the other away again. And again. And again. Until the entire hole is covered.
Now you’ve done half the process. The next step is to go from top to bottom, weaving your needle in and out of the threads you just created, while also doing the anchoring stitches that you did earlier. Keep your stitches as dense as possible to create an even, solid mass of thread which will eventually build up, and cover the hole. Yay! You’re darning!
A wooden darning egg. Darning eggs can be made out of almost anything – metal, glass, wood, even stone. It just has to be something sufficiently hard that the needle doesn’t break it. The curved shape helps to stretch out the fabric, and stops it from bunching up and kinking.
One way to make darning easier is to place something inside the garment, so that you have a solid surface to rest against while you darn. This stops the fabric from flopping around anywhere. Traditionally, this ‘something’ was a hard, round object made of wood, known as a “darning egg”, or a “darning mushroom”, depending on the shape.
Darning is usually done on thick, woven wool clothes and fabrics. Stuff like sweaters, dressing gowns, socks, sweater-vests, etc. The thick, fluffy weave of the fabric hides (or makes less noticeable) the repair-job of darning. Darning will never make a garment look like new, but it will stop it from getting worse and falling apart. For this reason, darning is a repair technique usually reserved for things which won’t be seen publicly – dressing gowns, socks, or sweaters which might be covered by a jacket or overcoat. Of course – the neater and more densely packed your darning stitches are, the less noticeable the repair will be overall, especially if you use a colour-matched thread.
Conclusion
Well, that brings this posting to an end. For anyone who loves bargain-hunting and seeking out secondhand or vintage clothes, hopefully this posting has given you a bit more confidence to be a bit more adventurous in your hunter-gathering, and given you a bit more confidence in repairing your own secondhand scores!
Sometimes, you really do find the weirdest things, when you’re out antiquing. Over the years, I’ve stumbled across everything from Pieces of Eight to razor-blade sharpeners, pill-rollers and writing slopes. But sometimes…just sometimes…you find something so obscure and unheard of that not only have you never seen it before, you’ve never heard of it before, and you’ve never even come across one on the internet! Likely, you’ve never even considered that such a thing might even exist!
Such was the case last week!
It was on a very windy Sunday morning in July when I picked up this curious rectangular, metal object. It was pointed out to me by the stallholder as something in which I might show a particular interest! And boy, was he right!
I remember staring at this object, a mounting sense of curiosity building up inside me as I laughed at it and picked it up.
“What is it!?” “Ever seen something like this before?” “Hell no! What’s it do?” “It’s pretty fantastic, huh? It’s for heating sealing-wax! You like that kind of old-world writing stuff, don’t you?” “Well…yeah!” “Buy it! You’ll never see another one of these, mate!”
Deciding that he was probably right, I haggled the price down and handed him the money. Apart from a bit of rubbing and wear, the piece was in absolutely wonderful condition – no cracks, no scratching, no dents, no missing or broken parts – everything was in perfect working order! A bit stiff in its operation, perhaps, but nothing that a good cleaning couldn’t fix!
All closed up
The furnace, or stove, is comprised of four main parts.
First is the body or shell. This is divided into two sections – the upper section, accessed by a flat, hinged lid, and the lower section, accessed by another hinged lid, with a circular handle screwed into the front.
The second part is the two-piece burner or spirit-lamp. This is the little rectangular unit that slides out of the bottom compartment. The top half of the burner comprises of the wick, and the adjustment-knob on the side, with the reservoir underneath.
The spirit-burner
It’s basically a small oil-lamp which burns kerosene or lamp-oil. The burner-unit is unscrewed, the reservoir is filled with oil, the wick and burner-unit are screwed back on, and once the oil has wicked its way up the wick, it can be lit with a match. Turning the wick up creates a strong, bright flame that is used as a heat-source for melting the wax.
The bottom door opened, showing the spirit lamp underneath
The sealing wax itself is stored in the third component – the wax pan. The pan is basically a metal dish or trough into which chunks or sticks of sealing wax are placed to be melted. The trough is heated from below by the flame of the spirit lamp, and once the metal is hot enough, the wax inside the trough melts into a liquid state.
Opening the top door reveals the removable wax pan above the burner-unit
Riveted to the sides of the body of the stove is the fourth component of the stove – an insulated carrying handle – suggesting that the stove is meant to be portable – this is borne out by the fact that the burner-unit fits into flanges or grooves inside the lower compartment of the stove-body, presumably to hold it in position under the middle of the wax-pan, and to stop it from sliding around when it’s being carried – important when you’ve got boiling hot wax and open flames around!
Is It A Rare Item?
I suspect that it is. I mean how many antique, working sealing-wax stoves have there got to be in the world? A look online revealed a surprisingly large number of sealing-wax melting devices, variously labeled as ‘stoves’, ‘kilns’ or even ‘furnaces’, but these were all modern ones. They’re low capacity, low-heat devices, usually incorporating a tealight candle.
They’re cheaply made with wooden and metal frames and bases, and are used only for melting small quantities of wax – enough for maybe one or two seals at a time. None of them have any age to them, and none of them are designed for large-scale, long-term use. They’re sold more as a cutesy gimmick, not as an actual piece of office or desktop equipment.
During all my searching, I found only two other antique sealing-wax stoves online, and only one of them was similar in design to mine. This would lead me to believe that they aren’t that common, and that if others do exist out there, then they’ve probably been mis-identified…which wouldn’t surprise me – after all, how many offices would’ve had a device like this sitting around?
What Is The Purpose of the Stove?
The stove is designed to melt and liquefy sealing wax, used for sealing documents and parcels, and provide a device for evidence of tampering. Traditional sealing-wax is very hard and brittle – it’s designed to shatter and crack if any stress is applied to it. Unfortunately, this quality means that it’s also much harder to melt than conventional candle-wax, or even modern, soft-textured sealing-wax.
Given that it would take higher heat and a longer time to melt traditional sealing-wax, it would make sense that any office where documents had to be sealed regularly, such as a post-office, bank, or lawyer’s office, would have a stove like this constantly lit, so that a supply of hot, liquid sealing-wax was on standby at the moment’s notice. To seal a document, one simply had to open the lid, scoop out the required amount with a ladle, and pour it over the document or parcel which required sealing.
How Does It Work?
Very simply! You place sticks or pellets of sealing-wax in the pan at the top of the stove. Drop the pan in, and close the lid. Then you fill the spirit lamp or burner with lamp-oil, or kerosene. You let the fuel rise up the wick, then light it with a match, like any other oil lamp. Turn the wick up to the highest level it can go without smoking, and then slide it into the bottom compartment between the two guide-rails. Then close the lower door (or leave it open, up to you).
Lighting the wick and testing out the spirit lamp
Once the lamp is lit, it’s just a matter of waiting for the flame to heat the pan, to melt the wax down to a liquid state. Obviously, the more wax there is in the pan, the longer it takes to melt. I imagine they did this on a case-by-case basis – they’d melt just enough wax to make a few seals, and after every 2-3 uses, they’d toss in another stick of wax to melt, so that it’d be liquid by the time they needed to use it again, while keeping the stove burning all day long throughout office hours.
The insulated carry-handle at the back
The carrying-handle on the stove suggests that it was meant to be portable – and that it was intended that the stove could be moved from desk to desk around a large office so that different people could use it, rather than taking their documents to a central table to seal them when needed.
How Old Is the Stove and Who Made It?
I honestly don’t know. I’d estimate early 1900s, probably not later than after the First World War, and as far back as the 1880s or thereabouts. There’s no real information on the device itself that gives us any information as to its history.
The only information provided is “SUTHERLAND, THOMSON & Co., 31 Tooley Street, London“. They’re identified as late as the 1930s, as being a supplier of “Dairy equipment and Scientific Glassware” – but that doesn’t mean that they made the stove. They might’ve sold it as the retailer, or simply have bought it for their own use in sealing documents and parcels. I saw one other one online supposedly sold by the same company, so they may have been an established retailer, although I have no real proof one way or the other. There are no patent-numbers, model-numbers, serial-numbers or any other marks on the device at all that tell us anything about it.
