Showing posts with label völva outfit. Show all posts
Showing posts with label völva outfit. Show all posts

Friday, November 29, 2019

A New Necklace for the Völva

The completed necklace.  I may trim the cord later.
After months of dithering, I have finally assembled what I  consider to be a reasonable necklace for my völva costume.  See the photograph with this post.  The bead colors shown are pretty close to the actual colors, though the brown fabric in the background is very grayed out for some reason.

For reasons of cost, most of this necklace consists of glass pony beads, which I was able to obtain very cheaply in a reasonable size.  (Beads of that shape and size have been found among Viking age remains, but not typically in the quantities that I'm using.)  I've also added a few beads that look like bone, but appear actually to be glass, to give a little variation to the strand (and because decorated glass beads were more than my budget can presently manage.  That was one reason why I took so long to complete this project).  The two big blue beads near the ends are actually made from polymer modeling clay, but they don't look obtrusively anachronistic, so I included them in the finished product.  

In light of the absence of large, fancily decorated beads, my völva is clearly not wealthy as völvas go.  But then, there is no indication that the völva in Eric the Red's saga was unusually wealthy except for her gem-ornamented cloak. Making my version of that cloak will be a project for another time.

It occurred to me while I was finishing the necklace that it applies for the current Historical Sew Monthly ("HSM") theme which is "Above the Belt", so I'm providing hat information below.

The Challenge:  November--Above the Belt

Material:  Glass beads (with two polymer clay beads added), leather cord.

Pattern:   None needed.  I did attempt to stick with types consistent with bead types I've seen in pictures of Viking age bead finds.

Year:  Viking age, that is, early medieval.  Roughly ninth-eleventh centuries CE.

Notions:  Same as materials, see above.

How historically accurate is it?  We don't know what Viking beads were strung on since they are usually found loose in the grave, with the stringing material disintegrated and vanished.  Glass beads of similar shapes have been found in Viking age graves, and collections of a comparable number (50-60) and similar sizes have been found.  On the other hand, polymer clay with random swirls in it didn't exist in the Viking age.  So maybe 75%.

Hours to complete:  About a half an hour for arranging and stringing (somewhat longer to decide what beads to purchase, but I didn't keep track of that).

First Worn:  Tonight, to see whether the strand is long enough to remove without untying it, and whether I can make a hood that is open enough for the beads to be visible.  (The answer seems to be "yes"; the necklace is longer than I thought it would be.)

Total Cost:  About $15.50 USD; approximately $2.50 for the leather cord at my local JoAnn Fabrics store, and $13.02 (including shipping) for all the beads but the two polymer beads.  Those I've had for years; they were purchased for a project that never worked out.

Thursday, June 20, 2019

Seed Bead Opportunity!

As my regular readers may recall, I am slowly making a völva costume. I keep going back and forth about whether to make a necklace specifically for this project or repurpose a necklace  I already have.

The packets of beads I am seeking to re-sell.
While I've been dithering, I saw a vendor on Etsy who was selling glass beads "Size 4 mm".  This is a bit on the small side for the Viking era, but I figured I could find other beads I have that are not strung to use with the mix offered, which was lovely and colorful.  In addition, the price was very low for the item and shipping/postage combined, even though the vendor is based in Australia.  

I should have guessed, from the 15 gram weight estimate for 145 beads, what I would be getting.  But hope springs eternal, especially when the price listed is low.  The beads I received are seed beads, with a diameter closer to 1 or 2 mm each than 4 mm each in size--way too small to make a Viking era necklace or any necklace with the number of beads provided.  A picture of the little packets of beads, with a 10 cm scale bar above, appears with this post.   

I don't have a use for seed beads, pretty though these are.  But there are potential costuming and craft uses for seed beads, both modern and medieval (check out the Medieval Beads site for evidence of medieval seed bead use).  So rather than try to seek satisfaction for my total purchase after several months (USD $6.85, including the postage), I figured I'd try to re-sell the beads for what I paid ($2.00 USD), plus shipping to the buyer's address, wherever in the world it is.  In the US, that will almost certainly be the cost of mailing a first-class letter, because the beads are only 15 g in weight, and a first-class letter in the US is one ounce, which is about 28 g.  I have no idea how much it might be to other countries, but the item is so light it shouldn't be much; we should be able to figure it out.

For the modest amount of this item, it's probably easiest to pay me through Paypal.  E-mail me at cathyr19355 at gmail dot com with questions.  If you are interested in buying the beads, I'll give you the information to use to reach my Paypal account.

Saturday, February 2, 2019

The Volva Outfit--Another Piece Done

My faux "shaggy calfskin shoes"
At least six months after acquiring the necessary components for the "shaggy calfskin shoes" for my völva outfit, I have assembled them into something I can wear.  The result is shown in the photo to the left.

My method here was not even remotely historical, so I am not counting this as a Historical Sew Monthly project.  This is essentially a quick-and-dirty modern "costume" style item, meant to approximate the possible appearance of the shoes described in the Saga of Eric the Red.  As I said in an earlier post, the foundation of these "boots" is a pair of Minnetonka brand boots, which in turn are based, loosely, on historical Amerind moccasins.  The shaft is a band made of faux fur, sewn into a tube and slid onto my leg, where it's positioned so that it conceals the top of the Minnetonkas at my ankles.  After settling the bands in place, I took a long thin lace for each "boot" and strung and knotted large brass beads onto the ends, and used those laces to tie the faux fur cuffs closely around my ankles.  Originally I was going to tie the thongs around the both top and bottom of the faux fur band, criss-crossing the laces in back, but it occurred to me that for that to work I would need to sew the thong into a channel at the top or bottom of the band, and since the band stays up pretty well without any tying, I thought that for my purposes it would be sufficient to just wrap the length of the band around my ankle (and over the faux fur band).  So that's what I did.

Interestingly, if I tie the thongs with enough length between the knot and the beads, the beads clack together when I walk.  I wonder if that was why the völva wore big brass knobs on her boots?

Calves, Highland Cattle breed
(from Wikimedia Commons)
Finally, since the shoes are described in the saga as "calfskin" the faux fur I used is a bit of a stretch.  Most cattle do not have thick fur like the faux fur I have chosen for this item.  One of the plausible exceptions, a breed called simply Highland cattle, has long fur that looks rather like the sheepskin-textured faux fur I am using (see the picture of Highland calves to the right of this post).  However, Highland cattle were brought to Britain during the Neolithic period, and, to my knowledge, did not arrive in Scandinavia during Viking times (though it can be found there now). Highland cattle are more cold-tolerant than many cattle breeds, though, and they probably could have survived in Viking age Scandinavia had they been taken there.  (Icelandic cattle, which probably do go back to the Viking age, don't look anything like Highland cattle, and do not have shaggy fur, unfortunately.)  I can't use the thongs I selected with the Minnetonkas alone, leaving off the faux fur cuff, because the thongs are too thin.  In addition, the balls I strung onto the ends of the current thongs do not have holes big enough for me to string them onto thicker thongs that might work with the Minnetonkas.

So I've accepted that my boots are for general Northern flavor, and are not documentably historical.  I could always experiment with wearing the cuffs and thongs with my more accurately styled Viking shoes, or even get other thongs if I find brass balls with suitably sized holes--my improvisation only cost about $10.00 USD.

In other news, I have concluded that I should use my old Migration Period necklace for this outfit, to avoid having to incur additional costs for beads to make a new necklace. That makes sense, since the necklace won't show much, if at all, underneath the type of hood I'm planning to make.

And I still have the mittens to finish.  I'm not sure whether that will come before or after the lambskin hood, since I still haven't bought any lambskin or lambskin substitutes yet.

Wednesday, November 28, 2018

The Lambskin Hood--Not Yet Ready for the Lambskin!

Last night, I spent some time attempting to modify my pattern for the völva's  black lambskin hood.  I don't really want to order the lambskin until I have a much better idea exactly how big a skin I'm going to need, and whether my white faux fur is large enough for the hood lining.  

It turns out that part of the charm of my generic medieval hood, the red-and-black reversible hood I'm using as the basis for my pattern, is that it's oversized all over.  The hood is at least 3 inches too long for me, which is what gives it its appealing drape.  

However, I never wanted the völva's hood to have the same exact shape as my old hood.  In my opinion, the völva's hood should be not be square like the Skoldehamn hood, or tailed like a later medieval hood, but should follow the curve of the head, like the Coppergate cap does.  But when I pinned the top of my existing hood to create that curved shape, I discovered that, suddenly, the back cape area looked baggy, misshapen, and unattractive.  

Now I think that what I need to do is to make a full mock-up of the hood in scrap fabric, so that I can repin and recut the pieces until the result assumes the shape that I want.  Then I can disassemble the mock-up, use the pieces to cut and sew the völva's hood lining, and order the black lambskin for the outside of the hood to complete the outside of the hood.

In the meantime, once I finish a few necessary tasks, maybe I can return to the mittens, or start the völva's white tunic.  At least I know how to cut and sew a suitable long tunic.  

Wednesday, October 24, 2018

Next Up: The Lambskin Hood

A hood I made many years ago.
The socks are done, the mittens are (probably) under control, or will be soon.  Now I'm thinking of the next item I want to make for my völva outfit--the lambskin hood.

At least one translation of the Saga of Eric the Red describes the völva as wearing "a black lambskin hood, lined with white catskin."  I have a sizable piece of white faux fur, purchased to make the mittens, and I recently found on Etsy a vendor that is selling pieces of black lambskin suede at a very affordable cost--perfect for what I have in mind! 

I even have a pattern.  When I first started making historical costumes, many years ago, I made myself a fully reversible medieval hood, using a fine red silk-wool twill fabric on one side, and a heavier black crepe (probably polyester, I didn't care about fiber type then) on the other.  It resembles the Skoldehamn hood a little, but it does not have either the ties or the cord edging that shape the Skoldehamn hood.  The photograph shows the hood in question.

When I made this hood, I knew nothing of how medieval fabric was woven, or why most early medieval garments are made entirely from geometrically-shaped pieces.  Thus, my hood used a straight piece for the hood proper, buy a rounded piece for the bottom.  However, it should be possible to tweak the design slightly to make a very similar design entirely from geometrical shapes.  I will want to make a pattern from the hood, rather than dismembering it--it is still very usable and too nice to destroy! 

Once the pattern is completed, sewing the new hood should be much quicker than making the original hood was.  All I'll need to do will be to sew the faux fur lining and the leather, insert the lining into the leather, and sew the two together along the bottom and edge of the hood.  All of the stitching will be in straight lines.  It *should* be simple, but it would not be surprising for unexpected difficulties to arise.

Watch this space for future developments.

Monday, October 22, 2018

Another Pair of "Catskin" Mittens

While web surfing today, I found to my surprise that Susanna Broomé, the woman who runs the website and business, Viking Age Clothing, is making her own pair of "catskin" mittens based on her pattern for the Akranes mittens!  A picture of her work in progress can be seen here on her business's Facebook page.  In the accompanying post, Susanna makes it clear that she is basing the project on the völva's mittens described in the Saga of Eric the Red.  However, she is using white rabbit fur, not faux fur, to stand in for the "catskin" lining.

Meanwhile, I have gotten bogged down and have not progressed on my mittens; I'm trying to decide whether to recut some of my faux fur pieces and start over or just unpick stitches and proceed with what I have.  In the meantime, I have two related projects in mind that should be much simpler and that I'm likely to get to first.

Susanna is a much better seamstress than I, but I find it flattering, somehow, that she agrees that the Akranes mittens make a good starting point for the völva's mittens.

EDIT: (10/26/2018)  Susanna finished her mittens!  You can see a picture of them on her Facebook page here.  Looking at them makes me think that perhaps I should just buy enough black lambskin for the hood to make the outside layer of my mittens black, also.

Thursday, September 20, 2018

Mitten Progress Report

Last night, I traced the pattern for the mittens on my faux fur, which will be the inside layer of the mittens.  

The good news is that I don't need to fell any of the seams on this project.  The leather outer layer will not ravel, and unfelled edges of the faux fur I'm using for the lining will not shed appreciably because they will be trapped inside the mitten itself when it's completed.  Also, though the directions say to use running stitch for the seams, I've been using whipstitch because the outside of the lining layer will not be visible once the mittens are complete.

The bad news is that I have had to rip the thumb free from the first mitten three times so far because I had not properly mated it to the rest of the mitten!  As near as I can tell, that's because I really should have sewn it on from the wrong side, even though the directions say to mate the thumb to the side piece right sides together; I still could have done that if I'd taken seriously the part about gathering the base of the thumb piece to fit.  the instructions say to sew the circular base of the thumb section to the side piece (which has a circular section) before sewing the two side pieces together, but I couldn't figure out how to fit the thumb base in correctly so long as the two side pieces were separate.

So tonight I sewed the other side piece partway on, and that did finally make it possible for me to get the thumb sewn in place. The poor thumb is somewhat twisted, probably because I didn't gather the  area of the side piece to fit the circular base of the thumb, as the directions require.  However, I may be able to fix that after the fact or may be bold enough to open some of the stitching and re-do it.    I will definitely gather the other side of the mitten so the two will fit together.

I also spent some time last night looking to see whether I have a needle for sewing leather.  The answer turns out to be that I have one but only for use with a sewing machine, not for sewing by hand.  So I will have to acquire one before I start the outer layer of the mittens.

Sunday, September 9, 2018

Skoldehamn Socks--Finished!

The finished pair of socks.
In wear.
Here is the pair of wool socks I made, based upon the socks in the Skoldehamn find.  I've included photographs of the socks alone, both right-side out and inside-out, as well as showing them on my feet.

Each sock is made from only two pieces of cloth, but it took me a surprisingly long time to figure out how the pieces had to go together to fit my feet. Once I did so, however, the socks went together quickly.  I seem to have twisted them in sewing them together, just a little, and both are a bit large in the heel and narrow through the toes (which is no surprise, since I have very narrow heels relative to the width of the front part of my feet).  Overall, though, the fit is good if a bit closer than I prefer.  However, I think that if I put the socks on my clean feet right after I wash them, while they are still wet or at least damp, I will obtain a more comfortable fit.
In wear, from the side.

I have more sensitive feet than average, but even so the under-the-foot seam did not bother me as much as I expected.  I attribute this primarily to the qualities of my wool (which had been pre-washed before it was sent to me).  The wool is both soft and surprisingly stretchy, and I think those attributes enabled me to get a satisfying result; I'm not sure it would be possible for me to get a comfortable fit using the Skoldehamn pattern with stiffer cloth.
Inside-out (on the left) and right-side out (right).

The original socks were worn with leg wraps, which extended over both the trousers and the tops of the socks.  However, so far as I have been able to ascertain, the Skoldehamn shoes were pretty low--no higher than the top of the ankle bone at the sides.  Both pairs of shoes I use with my Viking costumes come up well over the ankle bone.  As the picture shows, they are high enough to support the open sides of the socks without leg or foot wraps or other ties.

Worn with the Viking boots I usually wear.
The Skoldehamn socks also appear to have been worn with pieces of wool wrapped around the foot; Hilde Thunem notes that it's not possible to tell whether the foot wraps were wrapped directly over the naked feet before the socks were put on, or were simply wrapped over the outside of the socks.  I don't have enough fabric left over from this project to try to make proper footwraps, but I may look through my stash to see if I can find enough wool fabric to make some and then try wrapping them at least over the outside of the socks, because my socks fit too snugly for an inside-the-sock approach to work.

As the above comments imply, this project turned into more of a learning experience than I had anticipated, and took longer to complete than I'd expected (Susanna Broomé's booklet classifies the socks as an elementary level project) .  However, it was still a success, since I got a usable set of socks out of it, and was a short project despite the minor difficulties.

After I finished the socks, it occurred to me that this project also falls within the ambit of the HSM challenge for August--Extant Originals.  However, since the Skoldehamn originals are not complete, and I finished this pair in September, not August, I prefer to submit my socks under the September challenge.  

Sole-side up.
The Challenge:  September--Hands and Feet

Material:  100% woven wool fabric, in a 2/2 twill weave.

Pattern:  Susanna Broomé's pattern for the Skoldehamn socks (part of the clothing of the person whose remains were found at Skoldehamn) in her booklet, Smaller Garments.

Year:  Late 10th-early 11th century CE.

Notions:  White linen Guttermann thread from my stash; I drew each thread across a cake of beeswax for ease in sewing.

How Historically Accurate Is It?:  About 80%.  The actual Skoldehamn socks have survived only as incomplete pieces.  Photographs of those pieces, along with detailed descriptions in English, can be found in Hilde Thunem's article on Viking age hose, here.  For my socks, I acquired a similar wool twill, and have sewn the socks in running stitch with the seam felled by folding over the sides away from the running stitch and whipstitching them down, consistent with the seams on the originals.

But my pair differs from the original in certain respects.  For example, some of the original sock pieces have blanket stitch along the edges instead of folded-over, overcast edges, but I decided to go with the whipstitching all of the outside edges down instead because I am more comfortable with that technique.  Also, because of the shape of my feet (as noted above), I altered the placement of seams some.  In addition, I used linen thread instead of wool thread, and double-folded all seams and edges, instead of simply finishing seams by folding the edges away from the location of the running stitches and whipstitching across the raw edges.

Overall, the resulting pair of socks is by no means a copy of the originals, but is, I think, made with appropriately historical techniques and materials.

Hours to Complete:  About 5 hours.

First Worn:  I tried them on while sewing them to help adjust the fit, and wore them for a bit before taking the photographs with this post to see if wearing them helped make them more comfortable.

Total Cost:  $10.50 (including shipping) for the 18 inch (approx. 46 cm) by 29 inch (approx. 74 cm) piece of wool fabric I used.  I already had the pattern, and the linen thread.

Thursday, September 6, 2018

Behold...a Sock!

The first sock!
I have finished the first sock of my pair of Skohldehamn socks.  A picture of the sock appears to the left.

The project is taking longer than I expected because, even though each sock is composed of only two pieces of cloth, it took me a while, even with the directions, to figure out how to orient and sew them together properly.  I also came to realize that the socks would not work with a less stretchy fabric than wool.

When I finish the other sock, there will be more pictures and explanations.

Wednesday, August 15, 2018

Back to the "Touchwood Belt"

While I'm working on the mittens and socks for my völva outfit, I figured I should make sure I have a "touchwood" belt.  My new belt is shown to the left of this post.

As I discussed in this post, it seems likely that the "touchwood" referred to in the saga is dried fungus, used as tinder.  I considered purchasing some actual fungus, but figure that I don't really need to spend the money to buy enough to make a belt, just for costuming purposes!  However, I misplaced the felt strip I originally bought for the belt, so I purchased a larger piece of felt in a much lighter shade of brown on Etsy.  I cut three strips from the felt, each a bit longer than my waist measurement, knotted them on one end, braided the three together, and knotted the other end.   Then I pulled on the ends to stretch the braid, making it look a lot less like felt.  To fasten it, one sticks the bigger of the two end knots through one of the gaps in the braid.  

I claim no historical accuracy points for this item, because no one knows for certain that tinder fungus was used for belts in the Viking Age, let alone how such belts may have been constructed or what they looked like.  But the idea of a traveling shamaness having firemakings with her person at all times seems very appropriate.  I should keep an eye out for evidence that shamans in other shamanic cultures made belts out of tinder fungus, though.

It occurred to me, after making the belt, that real fungus shows pronounced areas of darker and ligher color which might be simulated by tea-dyeing the belt.  That might be worth doing yet; I need to consider the matter some more.

Tuesday, August 7, 2018

New Project--Skoldehamn Socks!

One of the patterns in Susanna Broome's booklet is a pattern for cut-and-sewn socks like the ones that are part of the Skoldehamn find.  Though the experts still debate whether the Skoldehamn find is Viking or Sami, the socks are a practical item in a style that would have been useful for people living in either culture, so I have decided to sew a pair to wear as a part of my völva outfit.

I found some splendid, soft, heathered, cream-and-light brown wool cloth from an Etsy vendor that should be perfect for the purpose--a picture of the cloth can be seen to the left.  As usual, click on the image for a larger version that gives a better view of the weave.

Susanna Broomé's pattern indicates that because the top of the stocking is not closed in the center, the socks need to be worn with leg wrappings or puttees.  I'm not sure if that's true if I wear them with boots that come up a little way on my leg.  I need to think about that some more.  This should be a quick project to make, though.  I probably will finish it in a few weeks at most.  

Monday, July 30, 2018

Materials for the "Catskin" Mittens

Here are the materials I am going to use for the "catskin" mittens for my völva costume. A photograph showing both the leather I am going to use as the "outside" and the white faux fur for the "inside" appears to the right.

In her book, Primitive Shoes, Margrethe Hald devotes quite a few pages to leather mitten finds from areas in the Arctic and subarctic, such as Canada.  All of them have a very similar appearance to the Akranses mitten; a rounded top (with the palm-side gathered to the back side) and a set-in thumb.  The pattern of a garment, originally made from leather, being made in the same shape in fabric much later in time after suitable fabric is available, has occurred a number of times in clothing history.  The most recent example of which I am aware involves the tunics worn by the women of the Amerind tribes of the central American plains..  After the whites began trading cloth to them, they continued to make cloth dresses in a similar style to the deerskin tunics they had previously worn.

This is going to be an interesting project, though a challenging one.  With the exception of a tiny pouch I have never sewn leather before, not even the thin soft stuff I have selected here, and it will be interesting fitting the outside and inside layers together.  It seems reasonable to begin with the inside "fur" layer, because once that is made it will set the size for the leather part, since the inner fur layer will have to fit inside the leather one.

EDIT:  (8/3/2018) Clarified my thoughts about Amerind women's deerskin tunics by reining in a couple of runaway sentences in the text above.
EDIT:  (8/10/2018) Corrected a fact and made a grammatical change for better readability.

Thursday, June 28, 2018

New Project--The Völva's Mittens

Because I'm still more likely to complete a shorter project rather than a long one, I have been thinking about another short project to start working on since completing my Hedeby bag a few days ago.  

It occurred to me that a good project might be to make a pair of mittens for my völva outfit, using the pattern for the Icelandic mitten from Akranes that is found in the "Caps and Mittens" booklet (I have the previous edition, which was called "Smaller Garments") booklet sold by Susanna Broomé on her Facebook page and website, Viking Age Clothing.  I have found several blog posts by bloggers who have made their own copies of these mittens, here (scroll down for the English translation) and here. For more about the facts relating to the Akranes find, see my friend Rebecca's page, here.

The Akranes mitten was found on the Akranes penisula near Reykjavik, Iceland, in 1881 and, as the pictures on the various sites I have referenced show, has a flaring cuff and is long enough to cover the ends of the wearer's sleeves. It is a good design for someone who travels extensively in the wintertime, as the völva in Eric the Red's Saga is said to have done.

The völva's mittens are described as "catskin gloves, and they were white inside and shaggy," but what handcoverings survive from the Viking age are mittens, so far as I am aware. The Akranes mitten was sewn of heavy wool fabric, without a lining, but it uses a simple enough pattern that I think I can adapt it for the mittens of the völva's outfit.

Because I will not kill a cat for this project, or deal with vendors who have, I will be making a lined mitten, with white faux fur on the inside and leather on the outside.  I have a scrap of soft brown sueded leather that might serve for the outside of these mittens, and I have ordered some white faux fur from an EBay vendor.  I will need to hunt down a leather needle in my stash of sewing equipment, as well as an appropriate thimble, to do the handsewing for this project.

EDIT:  (7/5/2018)  The faux fur I'd ordered from EBay had such a minuscule pile that it did not look like fur, so I've sent it back for a refund.  I've ordered a different piece of faux fur from a different vendor that I hope will serve my purposes better.

Wednesday, August 2, 2017

The Völva Costume--A Few Thoughts About The Cloak

Slowly, (especially since my spouse has a regular income again), I have begun to think about reviving long dormant costume projects.

I have been thinking about the cloak that I need to make for the völva costume.  My assumption, based upon other surviving garments of the same period and upon the description in Eric the Red's Saga (e.g., the fact that the völva's cloak has "straps") is that this cloak should be a semicircular cloak.  However, my last attempt to make a semicircular cloak, the Byzantine mantion I made some years ago, fits poorly and is hard to keep in position in wear.

I suspect, on the basis of the shapes of the surviving semicircular cloaks from the Viking age, that the fact that my mantion fits poorly does not mean its design is anachronistic.  Far from it; I'd bet that most semicircular cloaks in the early Middle Ages fit poorly, because a simple semi-circular design fails to take the protuberance of the shoulders into consideration.  It occurred to me that, if I want the cloak to be secure when simply tied on with long straps, I must do something about the shoulder problem. I would like to experiment with techniques that might make this cloak fit better, even if such techniques are not documentable to the Viking age.

One possibility would be to shape the relevant area of the cloak to my form with seams, stitched on the inside of the garment.  That could be worked out by pinning the seams first to check for fit.  I'm thinking that a few seams, radiating outward from (roughly) the center of the neck notch and reaching downward about 6 inches may work.  In that case, it might be possible to achieve a decent fit with  a simple circular neck-notch.

The idea would be to cut the neck notch and sew the fitting seams first.  Finishing the neck could be simple.  I am thinking of cutting a long piece of silk, a bit more than twice as wide as I want the "straps" to be.  The idea would be to use the strip to bind the neckline by placing the center of the silk strip against the back center of the neck notch, fold the fabric over each side of the neck notch, and stitch it down around the neckline. (Yes this will take some folding and tweaking, but might be worth it.)  Then stitch down the rest of the length of each strap, fold the edges inward and stitch together along the folds.  In other words, the silk strip would be fastened to the cloak all around the neckline, and the rest would serve as long straps.  That way, the straps would be unlikely to rip away from the cloak.  The sketch to the left above should give a better idea of what I mean.  (N.B.:  The two different pieces are not drawn to the same scale.)

This concept assumes, of course, that my piece of fabric is large enough to cut the cloak as a semicircle; I don't recall exactly how big it is.  If the fabric is not wide or long enough, it may make better sense to try to cut the cloak as a series of pie-shaped wedges and stitch them together to create a better-fitting shape.

If anyone has comments or thoughts about these ideas, please let me know in the comments.

Thursday, March 31, 2016

Some Inspiration for April

After my last post on the sprang project, I managed to get my sprang frame set up for another try at winding on the yarn, when I unexpectedly came down with the flu last week! I spent most of last week in bed, and most of this week pretending I was well again but feeling as though I am only at half-strength.  So the sprang project is being pushed off, again.   Sigh.

In the meantime, I found the video tutorial below. It's about how to use a wire technique like trichinopoly -- a type of wire ornamentation like the wire ornaments found in graves in Birka -- to make settings for stones.  I have been hoping to find such a tutorial for a while, since the völva outfit I am still planning to make requires a cloak set with "stones," and I've been thinking of working on the cloak for the April Historical Sew Monthly project.  Perhaps learning this technique will give me something costume-related that I can (finally) make progress on this year!

Saturday, May 30, 2015

Two Epiphanies About The Völva's Outfit

Between work, taxes, and illness, I've spent more time thinking about historic costume than making, researching, or blogging about it so far this year.   Unfortunately, with summer (and summer events) starting here, I don't expect that to change dramatically.  However, in the last few days I experienced two epiphanies--two sudden revelations--that relate to my proposed völva outfit, and I'd like to share them here, because I think they may be interesting, and because my readers may have additional insights that would improve upon them.

Posement from Birka grave 832*
The first epiphany relates to this part of the saga description of the völva's cloak:  "...she had a blue mantle fastened with straps, and stones were set all in the flap above...."   The "flap above" is still a mystery to me, but I recently found a photograph of a Viking age artifact that shows how the "stones" on the völva's cloak might have been "set." That photograph, which appears to the left, is a textile fragment bearing a piece of a posement, i.e., an  ornament worked from precious metal wire.  The fragment came from grave no. 832 at Birka ("Bj. 832), and it now resides in the Historiska Museet in Stockholm. (Many thanks to Alicja Jaczewska, because I found the photograph on her Pinterest board.)

What makes this artifact relevant to the völva's cloak is the fact that the posement includes a stone, probably made of glass, in a mount made from wire like the rest of the posement.  (The stone is the bluish lump on the right edge of the fragment.) 

The effect of this "mount" looks very much like modern shisha embroidery, which uses thread to mount bits of mirrors or metal onto clothing.  The difference is that thread alone won't suffice to mount a glass stone onto fabric--but a mount woven of wire would be sturdy enough, and like the rest of the posement, it could simply be sewn onto the fabric.  For all we know, the fragment from Bj. 832 could have ornamented a cloak, with the knotwork section decorating the edge, and the stones sewn onto the fabric beside it. 

The second epiphany relates to the völva's "touchwood belt."   I'm not sure what inspired this idea, but it makes better sense of my theory of how the touchwood belt was worn and used than any suggestion I have discussed so far.  My concern about the belt was how a substance as soft and shreddable as touchwood could be made into a belt that was strong enough to support the völva's large pouch but still remain potentially usable as tinder.

I was mentally reviewing the Bj. 832 fragment when this idea for the belt came to me.  What if the belt were made from pieces of touchwood, rolled into longer strands and braided?  The use of multiple strands would make the belt more attractive and better suited to cinching clothing, but each strand could still be soft enough that bits could be teased out for use as tinder if required.

The change in theory suggests a new idea for replicating the belt--raffia!  Raffia is cheap, comes in brown (giving it the look of touchwood) and could be twisted into strands for braiding.

For the first time in months, I am getting excited about the völva outfit again, even though the idea of fashioning enough wire mounts to trim the edges of a long cloak feels as impossible to me as flying to the moon by flapping my arms.  Although I may not have the skill to pull that idea off, the Bj. 832 fragment provides tangible support for the idea that important people may have worn cloaks decorated in that manner.  I will have to keep my eyes open for other finds that may provide further support.

*  The photograph appears in the searchable online database of the Historiska Museet, a/k/a the Swedish Historical Museum in Stockholm, Sweden.

Saturday, March 22, 2014

The Völva's Costume

For HSF Challenge #6, I have decided to attempt to construct the costume of the völva in the Saga of Erik the Red.  Though it's not a fairytale, it is a story with supernatural components whose historicity is debated. That makes it enough of a "fairytale" for my purposes.

In an earlier post, I discussed my ideas about the "touchwood" belt she is described as wearing in the saga, but there are many other components to her costume.  To get a better idea of what would be involved in making a complete völva costume, let's take another look at the relevant passage from the saga:
The völva from the Saga
...then she was dressed like this, so that she had a blue mantle fastened with straps, and stones were set all in the flap above; on her neck she had glass beads, a black lambskin hood on her head with white catskin inside; and she had a staff in her hand with a knob on it; it was made with brass and stones were set above in the knob; she had a belt of touch-wood, and on it was a large skin pouch, and there she kept safe her talismans (taufr) which she needed to get knowledge. She had on her feet shaggy calfskin shoes with long thongs and large knobs on the ends of those. She had on her hands catskin gloves, and they were white inside and shaggy.
To actually make the costume, I will need to think about each item the völva is described as wearing, and make decisions about what the description is trying to get the reader to visualize.  Only then will I be able to consider how to make a costume that will evoke that visualization, or how to make components for this costume that are not grossly inconsistent in appearance with what I know of women's costume during the Viking age and immediately after.  The image to the right is a sketch that shows the result of my reasoning process about what the saga is describing.  Since it's very unlikely that I will be able to finish the costume by April 1 (the HSF # 6 deadline) I can at least discuss the reasons for my design choices now, and perhaps get further ideas from my readers before I begin making anything.

The saga description gives us most of the direct information available to answer that question, but before examining the saga description in detail, there is one question that has to be answered first, namely...

What was worn underneath? All of the items of the völva's attire that are described in the saga are what a modern costumer would call outerwear and accessories; except for the belt, we have no idea what she is wearing beneath her mantle. 

On one of my Pinterest boards, I have collected images of different people's ideas of what the völva in the Saga of Erik the Red wore (or at least what a völva generally should look like).  Many of these images show the völva wearing the tortoise brooches associated with the smokkr or apron dress.  The symbolism of the smokkr with brooches, however, seems inappropriate to me.  Whether or not the smokkr was associated with a woman's marital status or her socio-economic status, neither set of symbolic implications is a good match with the idea of völvas and other seidr workers as being outside of (though respected by) the rest of Viking society.  Lyonel Perabo's recent article about seiðr-practitioner in Viking society concludes, with regard to völvas:
All in all, [sic] would rather emphasize the fact that in virtually all of the accounts or references to völva, she appears to be an outsider figure. She either has no apparent or permanent place in the society she evolves in (Örvar-Odds saga, Eiríks saga Rauða) or is clearly associated with liminal and distant areas (like the grave in Baldrs Draumar and Laxdæla saga). Such a vision of the völva is very much in line with the idea of seiðr (and seiðr-practitioner) coming from outside the civilized society of men that we discovered in Chapter I (B). (p. 9).
If our völva is not wearing a smokkr, she must at least be wearing a long tunic, as the artwork indicates almost all women in Viking society who were not thralls wore.  Thor Ewing has observed that clothing descriptions in the sagas refer to most Viking attire, even that of high-ranking people, as being undyed. Dyed clothing in the sagas is usually blue, though a high-ranking chieftain might wear red.  These observations have, so far, been borne out by the few scraps of fabric that survive from the graves of wealthy Vikings.  So if our Viking shamaness is wearing a dyed tunic beneath her cloak, it is probably also blue.

However, I have decided that the white wool shift I am making for my Vendel costume will serve as  the garment the völva wears beneath her mantle.  This choice seems fitting to me for several reasons.  One reason is personal economy--I have white wool in sufficient quantity, and was planning to make a long tunic from it anyway. But this choice is also consistent with the symbolism and with color references in other sagas to clothing.  A white wool dress would most likely have been made in period with undyed wool.  Since it would have had to have been made from the fleece of a white sheep, it would have been relatively rare--appropriate for a shaman of high rank. Persons with special connections with the world of the gods and the supernatural throughout antiquity--druids, Vestal Virgins--wore white.  The catskin linings of the völva's hood and "gloves" (more on the "gloves" below) are also white. Granted this is all speculation, not proof, but it's at least speculation based upon some facts.

...a blue mantle fastened with straps, and stones were set all in the flap above...  In the Viking world, dyed clothing was much more prestigious than undyed clothing.  As I alluded to above, most references in the sagas to dyed clothing that have a color ascribed to them are described as blue. Penelope Walton Rogers's study of Norwegian and Danish wool fragments found that most of the fragments that tested positive for dye substances contained indigotin--the substance that makes blue.  This makes practical sense as well; Ewing points out that dyed clothing, especially if dyed in dark hues, is easily discernible from a distance; this is a useful characteristic for clothing worn by people who travel widely through wild country located in cold climates, as the völvas did.

Cnut holding his "mantle with straps"* 
I had a revelation about the "straps" while I was planning this project. For years, whenever I re-read the phrase "a blue mantle fastened with straps," I would wonder what the saga author could have meant.  I once saw a reconstruction sketch by a reenactor suggesting that there might be three straps, fastened with knobs or buttons to each edge of a semicircular cloak.  That image has a pleasing symbolism about it (there are three Norns, for example), and I was prepared to adopt it for this costume.

Then I thought about artwork from the late Viking era, and it occurred to me the saga could well be referring to a type of closure that is much, much simpler.

The image to the right shows King Cnut, a Viking who became King of England late in the Viking age.  He is partly wearing, partly holding what appears to be a long cloak with long wide ribbons--or straps--with triangular ends.  It has been suggested that the gold and silver ornamented silk strips found in the Mammen chieftain's grave were straps that fastened the chieftain's marmot-fur-lined wool cape. During the 10th through 12th centuries, a number of semicircular mantles or capes survive that are associated with monarchs or other high-ranking people.  Is the saga's author trying to tell us that the völva wore a similar cloak, with long ties or straps, that was a symbol of her high rank? Certainly the manner in which the chieftain defers to her in the saga is consistent with the idea that she was viewed as a very high-ranking person.

So to make this cloak I will need dark blue wool, preferably in a coating or other heavy weight, and some kind of fabric for long tie-strings or straps.  The last batch of dark blue wool coating I had I used for my Byzantine mantion.  I chose to use light blue wool to trim the mantion, and that cloak was made to be fastened with a brooch, not straps--both factors that make it unsuitable for re-purposing for the völva costume.  But now that I have a regular income again, I can look for and buy some dark blue heavy wool for a special cloak for this project.  My idea is to make a semicircular cloak, no shorter than mid-calf-length (as shown in my sketch), and more likely ankle or ground length.  As for the straps, I have some light blue silk purchased for another project that I could turn into long ties for the cloak, possibly in conjunction with a second fabric to give the straps a bit more body.  I have some dark blue suit-weight wool that is too fine for anything else Viking--perhaps I can make the straps from it and cover them with the light blue silk.  The saga does not say that the "straps" themselves were ornamented, so I see no need to ornament them though perhaps a bit of simple embroidery would not be out of place.

The final element of the mantle description, however, continues to baffle me.  What is the "flap above" to which this translation of the saga refers? Does this phrase refer to the edge of the hood?  Could the mantle have had a collar that was so adorned?  Is the reference to adornment on part of the mantle straps themselves?  Possibly this reference is a mere artifact of the translator's struggle; the translation of the saga that appears in the Icelandic Saga Database, for example, says simply "she had a blue mantle over her, with strings for the neck, and it was inlaid with gems quite down to the skirt," without mentioning any flap at all. I can't think of any basis to prefer any one of these interpretations over the others.   I would be grateful for any insights or ideas any of my readers might have on this issue.
My Princess of Zweeloo beads

In light of the uncertainty of the translations, what I would like to  do is to ornament the edges of the mantle with glass stones, but I can't figure out how to fasten them in place without resorting to fabric glue, which seems very inappropriate for this project. Suggestions would be appreciated, but until I come up with a way to solidly affix red stones (my preference, as shown in the sketch) along the cloak's edges, I prefer to leave the cloak undecorated.

...on her neck she had glass beads...   I originally made the glass-bead necklace shown to the left to wear with a Princess of Zweeloo costume, long ago (that is one reason that it has so many "flower" shaped beads on it).  However, a number of the beads on the strand are consistent with Viking era designs, so this necklace will do.  Perhaps when I feel more motivated, I will assemble a new necklace, just for this costume.

My hood
... a black lambskin hood on her head with white catskin inside...  So far as I am aware, the Vikings did not wear hooded cloaks; thus, it seems most likely that the hood referred to in the saga is a separate garment that covered only the head and shoulders, like the hoods of the early Middle Ages, or the Orkney Hood (but without the long fringe that is such a striking feature of the Orkney Hood).  The photograph to the right is a black wool hood that I made long ago and, unlike most of my early efforts, I continue to be pleased with it. It is completely reversible; the fabric on the other side is a red silk-wool twill. Although it is not made from "lambskin" as required by the saga, it has the correct early medieval shape--nearly square, with a small point near the crown of the head--though it would be better if the hood fit a bit more closely to my head.  What I originally thought of doing was to sew a broad band of high-quality fake fur (tissavel) onto the red side of the hood, near the edges, in order to give the impression that the hood has a white, fur lining. Now that more money is coming in, I may simply buy enough black lambskin and some white tissavel (high-quality fake fur) and make a new hood in the same shape--assuming I can recall or reconstruct how I made the hood in the first place.
My staff

...a staff in her hand with a knob on it; it was made with brass and stones were set above in the knob... I own a plain, wooden staff, made for me by a friend from a piece of maple.  A proper staff, either made entirely from brass with a knob set with stones (the most logical way to construe the language above) or from wood but topped with a brass knob set with stones, would cost much more than I am willing to invest in this project (possibly several hundred US dollars), and I am reluctant to alter my friend's gift by fastening a knob to it, even if I could find a suitable one.  So I will use my wooden staff as-is, reluctantly disregarding the saga text in this respect.

a belt of touch-wood...  I discussed the nature and possible construction of the völva's belt in a post a few months ago.  My conclusion is that the belt was made of a substance that today is called "tinder fungus" or amadou, which is a type of fungus that when dried is excellent for starting controlled fires and which can be treated to be sufficiently durable for clothing.  It has been pointed out that strips of the fungus may merely have hung from an ordinary belt, but it seems to me that that might not have been unusual enough to merit mention by the saga author.  Moreover, amadou could have been fashioned into an actual belt, and small pieces of such a belt could be cut, from time to time, for tinder.  Such economy of use seems very characteristic of the Vikings to me.  Thus, I am still inclined to fashion a belt from a strip of heavy felt.

Drawstring pouch
...a large skin pouch...  I have a large suede drawstring pouch not unlike the Oseberg pouch in shape.  Because of where I stood to take the picture (see left), it looks smaller than it is.  It is approximately 5.5 inches (14 cm) by 8 inches (24 cm) long, which judging from what I know of surviving finds would be "large" in a Viking era context.  Note too that the Viking age pouches that fasten with a flap tend to be associated with men.  Although the evidence I've seen is very tenuous, drawstring pouches seem to have an association with women's magic-making equipment (see Fugelsang, p. 22, and the Oseberg pouch itself).

...shaggy calfskin shoes with long thongs and large knobs on the ends of those...  The pictured shoes are actually Minnetonka brand moccasins; they were the first shoes I bought to wear with my Viking garb.  Minnetonka is an American shoe manufacturer that sells many styles of shoes based more or less on traditional American Indian footwear. With the tell-tale metal "conchos" removed from each shoe, this pair of mocassins look somewhat like a certain style of Viking era low boot or high shoe. (I say "somewhat", because they are obviously not made with turnshoe-style construction; the stitching that fastens the upper to the part containing the sole is external and plainly visible as this photograph shows.) However, my planned costume is more of a "costume" than a historical recreation, so I plan to engage in a costume-style trick to address the shoe issue.  I plan to sew a high cuff from shaggy fake fur, replace the tie thongs with much longer ones, slide the cuffs onto my legs over the tops of the shoes as though they were leg-warmers, and secure the cuffs in place by wrapping the tie-thongs of the shoes around them, adding large brass beads to the ends of the thongs to give the moccasins a plausible resemblance to the saga description.
My "Viking" moccasins 

Probably the völva wore her shoes with some kind of stockings.  I can use modern wool stockings or my hand-sewn linen stockings for the purpose, since they will not show when the costume is worn.

...on her hands catskin gloves, and they were white inside and shaggy...  As I discussed in an earlier blog post, existing finds of winter handwear from Viking age Scandinavia all consist of mittens, not the multi-finger-compartment hand garments we now call "gloves." The fact that these hand coverings were lined with "shaggy" fur tends to confirm that they were mittens, since it would be much less difficult to line a mitten with shaggy fur than to line a glove with shaggy fur.  If I can obtain suitable some lambskin or other thin leather cheaply enough, I will make a pair of mittens from it and line, or at least partially line, them with tissavel.  Alternatively, if I can find a suitable pair of leather mittens as a thrift store or EBay find, I will use those, possibly adding a partial lining (i.e. at the wrist) of tissavel to stand in for "shaggy" fur.

If I am lucky, I can assemble the components of this costume that I don't already have in time for HSF #10--Art! Wish me luck.

EDIT:  (4/3/2014)  It occurs to me that I could sew beads (possibly even gemstone beads) along the front edges of the cloak.  This may not be what the saga composer had in mind when talking about "stones set all in the flap above" but it would contribute to the exotic effect, if nothing more.  Semiprecious stones (carnelian or rock crystal) would be period and impressive but expensive; red glass would be as showy, and cheaper.  I'll need to think about this idea some more.

Bibliography


Image of King Cnut and Queen Emma presenting a cross to Hyde Abbey, from an illuminated manuscript, Liber Vitae, 1031, Stowe Ms 944, folio 6, The British Library.  This version scanned in from Williamson, David, The National Portrait Gallery History of the Kings and Queens of England, William S. Konecky Assoc. (2000), and made available on Wikimedia Commons.

Ewing, Thor.  "‘í litklæðum’ – Coloured Clothes in Medieval Scandinavian Literature and Archaeology."  Published on the author's eponymous website at http://thorewing.net/articles/colouredclothing/    Last accessed on March 22, 2014.
 
Fugelsang, Signe Horn.  "Viking and Medieval Amulets in Scandinavia."  Fornvannen, vol. 84, pp. 15-27 (1989).

Lucas, Rebecca.  "Three Icelandic Mittens."  Published on the author's website at http://www.medieval-baltic.us/vikmitten.html . Last accessed on January 21, 2014.

Mould, Quita, Carlisle, Ian & Cameron, Esther.  Leather and Leather-Working in Anglo-Scandinavian and Medieval York. pp. Council for British Archaeology (May 2004).

National Museum of Denmark.  "The Grave from Mammen--The Costume."  Published on the museum's website at http://natmus.dk/en/historical-knowledge/denmark/prehistoric-period-until-1050-ad/the-viking-age/the-grave-from-mammen/the-costume/ . Last accessed on January 21, 2014.

Perabo, Lyonel D. "The Image of Seiðr in Old Icelandic Literature: Consistency or Variation?"  Available on academia.edu and last accessed on March 21, 2014.

Raymond, Catherine.  Loose Threads:  Yet Another Costuming Blog.
     
    "The 'Touchwood' Belt," published December 25, 2013 at http://cathyscostumeblog.blogspot.com/2013/12/the-touchwood-belt.html

    "Viking Pouches?",  published September 4, 2013 at  http://cathyscostumeblog.blogspot.com/2013/09/viking-pouches.html

     "A Little Detour into Glove History,"  published March 23, 2013 at http://cathyscostumeblog.blogspot.com/2013/03/a-little-detour-into-glove-history.html

      "More Semicircular Cloaks," published November 24, 2009 at http://cathyscostumeblog.blogspot.com/2009/11/more-semicircular-cloak.html

     "In search of semicircular cloaks, published October 24, 2009 at http://cathyscostumeblog.blogspot.com/2009/10/in-search-of-semicircular-cloaks-in.html

Walton, Penelope. Dyes and Wools in Iron Age Textiles from Norway and Denmark. Journal of Danish Archaeology, vol. 7, pp. 144-158 (1988).

Ward, Christie.  "Women and Magic in the Sagas: Seiðr and Spá." Published on the author's website, The Viking Answer Lady, at http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/seidhr.shtml  . Last accessed on January 22, 2014.

Ward, Christie, "Viking Age Fire-Steels and Strike-A-Lights."  Published on the author's website, The Viking Answer Lady, at http://www.vikinganswerlady.com/fire.shtml . Last accessed on January 21, 2014.

Wikipedia.  Article on Fomes fomentarius. http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Fomes_fomentarius . Last accessed on January 21, 2014.

Wood, Jacqui.  "The Orkney Hood:  An Ancient Re-Cycled Textile."  Published on Saveock Water Archaeology at http://www.archaeologyonline.org/Documents/TheOrkneyHood.pdf and available as of January 21, 2014.



*  Uncredited photographs shown with this post were taken by me.  Single-starred images are from Wikimedia Commons.

Sunday, March 2, 2014

Washing the White Wool

Today, I washed the white wool fabric that I am going to use for my Vendel period shift.  I washed it in the washing machine, on cold water on the "delicate" (i.e., slowest agitator setting).  Now it is hanging as best as I could manage in my basement to dry.

The fabric feels nearly dry to the touch already, and does not seem to have shrunk noticeably in size. Unfortunately, due to the geography and condition of my basement, I cannot stretch the fabric out fully to dry, so I will probably have to iron it when it is nearly dry to smooth it out for cutting my shift.  But so far the experiment seems to have been a success.  It would be great if the washing also has the effect of making the fabric less itchy against my skin; I'll find that out as I progress.

EDIT:  (3/3/2014)  After I wrote my post, I got a brainstorm.  I set up the ironing board and spread the fabric out carefully across it.  As a result, it is now quite dry and also almost as smooth as if I *had* ironed it.   I haven't made any measurements, but I don't detect any significant shrinkage and although the fabric feels a bit thicker, the weave is still visible. Success!  Next, I have to find a few moments to cut my pattern pieces out; then, I'll be able to work on the stitching whenever I have a spare moment.

Wednesday, December 25, 2013

The "Touchwood" Belt

Amadou cap (Wikimedia Commons)
One of the more confusing elements about the costume of the völva in the Saga of Eric the Red is the reference to the "touchwood" belt she is wearing.  When I first read the description of the völva's costume, I thought "what kind of wood do you use to make a 'touchwood' belt and how would it be made?"  At the time, that question was simply an idle thought.  Now that I plan to try to recreate the völva's costume, I have to come up with an answer that is both technically reasonable and at least historically plausible.

The Viking Answer Lady's research provides a key to this puzzle.  She reports that "touchwood" is the English word used in translations  from Old Norse for a fungus that grows on birch trees.  This fungus, when dried, is excellent tinder for use in starting fires.  In discussing Viking age fire-starting techniques, the Viking Answer Lady observed:
Touchwood has a wide variety of names, but is technically a fungus of the Polyporus or Boletus family, especially Fomes fomentarius, Polyporus fomentarius or Boletus chirurgorum. ...

Touchwood was collected in Europe in August and September, chiefly from oak and beech, the best being from oak. The substance was then prepared for use by removing the exterior rind and cutting the inner part into thin slices, which were washed first in weak alkali, then in water and then beaten with a hammer and worked until they become a soft, pliable felt-like material that could be easily torn by the fingers.   (emphasis mine)
Fomes fomentarius (Wikimedia Commons)
These properties of Fomes fomentarius are well known and continue to be used by people venturing into wild country; its use by wilderness travelers is described on this website. It is often referred to as "tinder fungus", and the felt-like substance that can be processed from it is known as amadou. Although amadou is not the most physically durable substance, it is sufficiently durable that objects such as caps (see the photograph above) can be made from it.  Such caps are made in Romania and sold over the Internet; anyone who is interested can purchase one here.

The idea that the völva wore a practical resource on her person is this manner is not really a strange idea in a Viking context.  It's well known that the Vikings would, at need, cut pieces from their silver bracelets to make purchases; similarly, the völva probably cut small pieces off her belt from time to time, possibly without even removing the belt, to start fires, which she may have had to do for ritual reasons as well as practical ones (i.e., for warmth or cooking purposes as she traveled between homesteads).

I do not plan to purchase actual amadou, which might not be sold in the shape that I need and would probably cost just a bit more than I'm willing to pay for a costume item right now.  However, knowing the general appearance and physical properties of amadou makes it easy to create a plausible touchwood belt for my costume.  All I need is a narrow strip of brown felt, long enough to go around my waist with a bit left over.   This site sells two-yard pieces of 1/2 inch (1 cm) 100% wool felt ribbon for $1.75 USD; that quantity is more than enough for my purposes and within my limited price range.

There is no reason to suppose that such a touchwood "belt" would be decorated, let alone decorated as elaborately as the amadou cap shown above, and I plan to wear a simple, unadorned strip of the felt ribbon as a belt.

Assuming that the völva's amadou belt is unadorned is not the most important question that needs to be resolved.  A more serious question is this:  How would the belt fasten around the waist?  Actual amadou would probably not be robust enough to be repeatedly knotted and unknotted for that purpose.

I originally thought that I could simply to cut a slit at one end of a strip of felt and narrow about 6 inches of the other end and carefully feed the narrow end through the slit to keep the strip around my waist; such a minimal form of handling seems consistent with a semi-durable material one would need to wear on one's person.

Then I remembered that the saga also states that the völva wears a large pouch of magical paraphernalia on her belt.  Would an amadou belt fastened only with a tongue-and-slit closing support a large pouch, even if the contents of such a pouch were very light? For that matter, would a belt made of felt with such a clothing support the weight of a pouch? This is a troubling question, since there's no indication that the touchwood belt fastened with a buckle or clasp of any kind. So how did it fasten around the waist?

Fortunately, the Romanian site that sells amadou caps provided me with some additional clues.  The same site also sells amadou handbags, which have straps made from amadou; a picture of such a bag may be found here.

The site reports that their bags "have a soft outer texture, the amadou stiffened in the front and back, but softer on the sides to allow them to expand. They are lined with a pale lavender linen print, so the amadou is not directly exposed on the interior.  The 'clasp' is held naturally by tucking the tail of the flap into a slot on the front. It's actually pretty secure. The straps are also made of tinder fungus, and securely attached to the bag. They should not be submerged, but can stand a little water.  Approximate dimensions: 7.5" w x 4" h x 5.5" h You can fit a one quart sized mason jar inside and still close the flap, barely."

This description indicates that amadou can be made stiff enough to withstand some moisture and to be used as straps.  The reference to stuffing the mason jar in the bag shows that amadou can be made tough enough to take some mechanical stress.  Those facts together suggest that an amadou belt should be strong enough withstand the weight of a belt pouch, even if knotting such a belt or installing metal fittings on it wouldn't be a good idea.  (The amadou handbag probably would have had a metal closure if installing one wouldn't affect its durability.)  Besides, metal fittings would make no sense for a period use of amadou.  Metal fittings would have made it more difficult for the völva to cut pieces from the belt for use as tinder when necessary.

A Google search for amadou belts did not turn up any examples, but did direct me to a page with a picture of the belt worn by Ötzi the Iceman, and that picture suggested an idea for how to solve the fastening problem.  Ötzi's belt was a strip of calfskin with thongs fastened to the ends that tied together.

Fastening a thong to each end of the amadou belt might not be necessary, though.  It would be simpler, and better allow for the cutting of tinder from such a belt if both ends of the strip were turned over and sewed onto the belt, with an oversized flap, worn next to the body, that could be trimmed off as needed.  A thong or string could be threaded through both loops, and then tied to itself, closing the belt securely without putting excessive stress on either end of the belt. 

I will find out soon whether my proposed belt concept works in practice.  After I complete it, I'll write about the process of creating it, and will provide pictures of the belt and pouch in use.

In the meantime, Happy Holidays to all who read this post!  I was going to try to do a follow-up on my Santa Claus post of two years ago but ran out of time and brain power. Perhaps I can return to this subject before the New Year; I received an interesting book as a Christmas present that should be relevant to this topic.

EDIT:  (1/1/2014)  It occurs to me that there is a much simpler way to make the belt that would better allow for its consumption (if it were made from amadou) as tinder.  That would be to sew down one end onto itself, making a loop, and to punch a small hole in the other end at an appropriate place.  Then you need only run a thong through the loop.  Thread at least one end of the thong through the hole in the other end and tie the ends of the thong together and your belt is fastened.  I will try that method first and see how it looks before ruling out the double-loop version described above.