Friday, December 30, 2022

Philly Mort - and Sweaters!

I first learned about the color philly mort in David Hackett Fischer's Albion's Seed. The list of things I first learned about in that book, which came out in the 1980's, is quite long. It has a cult following at this point. I do think his argument gets weaker the further he gets into the (original) British invasion 1600-1800 of four distinct cultures from the Isles settling the colonies that would become America. Yet it comes up over and over again.

But the color.  It was a Sadd Color, meaning a serious and natural color favored by the puritans in both England and New England. Black and white were for those of elevated station and for more formal occasions, because the dye was expensive and both colors tended to fade and worsen with actual use. So get that myth out of your head right now (along with all the other myths you have about puritans). The puritan peoples were quite fond of "actual use," one of the few things they saw eye-to-eye with the Mid-Atlantic Quakers about.* The list of possible sadd colors at the link is trying to be exhaustive rather than representative, I think. Perhaps I have not been reading the right materials, but I don't think any periwinkle-like gridolin was commonly worn . Even violett looks like "Wait, is that black? Navy?" If one looks at the college colors for the New England colonial Ivies, Harvard's crimson is a dull red, Dartmouth's green a dull green, Yale blue was (until recently) dull, and Brown University was of course, brown. Not very snappy colors.

Browsing the yarns and replica clothing for Plimoth Plantation and reading the hedging and disclaimers I get the strong impression that the modern craftswomen are continually yearning to expand the repertoire of colors and styles and are conferring authenticity on something for suspect reasons.  Of course, the same was likely true of puritan women themselves, and the number of available colors in 1620 was likely considerably less than in 1776. The originals in the Great Migration were an earthy group, so colors like rat, liver, goose turd green, deer, and madder would not have seemed offensive in description. They were being prepared for use, not sale. 

"Philly Mort" was from the French feuille morte (see the word folio in there?) meaning "dead leaf."  Their opinion of what a dead leaf should look like might have changed once they settled in New England, but one still has to find dyes for these things, and the red of the sugar maple in October may not be an easy one to replicate.

A wargaming miniatures forum had a forum contributor who researched the question - now there's a thought, eh? - and discovered the following. The top two colors accord with what I was envisioning, the bottom two were more what my wife was thinking about. After reading the article I feel somewhat vindicated but certainly see her point.

 


This all came up because of the Christmas list, which is always a puzzle for me, as I am very much trying to get rid of things, not acquire them. Now that few places need donated clothes anymore, I wear mine even beyond the point where a homeless person would be insulted to receive them.  More on that in a moment. But I hit upon sweaters, as my aged red sweater is beyond repair and I have long wanted one in philly mort.  LL Bean used to carry them, and preppy sorts would wear them under blazers, but those days are gone. Sadd, as a puritan Donal Trump might say. They'll be back, I imagine. One of those in the top color would be a great treasure, enough that I might specify being buried in it, under the suit coat with the elbow patches.

So I got four sweaters from my children for Christmas, in various permutations of two-out-of-three features I specified: thickness, collar, and color. Having searched through the possibles myself last month, I know they were not going to do better than 2-of-3 for any money, so I am content, and in the manner of presents from children, I have already started to grow fond of them. One is pretty close to #4 above. There are also a magenta and a red-orange could conceivably echo a dead leaf somewhere.

My Favourite Sweater, a dull heather-brown wool I bought in Edinburgh in 1997, went the way of all yarn last year and was put in the trash after my wife (who hated it) bought me another brown heathery wool number. Numerous relatives applauded.

                                                                DECEMBER 2021

The elbows did not have enough good yarn to hold a patch and it is unclear what one would even attempt to do with the frayed collar. In my defense, I did not wear this out in public: just in the yard...or sometimes to the dump. Or, okay I admit it, the hardware store...and whatever errands were near the hardware store. Or to pump gas. Or walk the rail trail. Hardly anyone ever saw me in this. Its most common use was as itchy pajamas on cold nights. I don't understand why the whole family was so unified in their opposition to that sweater.

There was a puzzling present under the tree "To Dave from Santa," which is suspicious because I go by "David." The handwriting was not identifiable. Yet Santa had shown his great affection for me, because there it was, the Favourite Sweater, back from the dead a year later. I clutched it to my breast, exclaiming "It's a Christmas Miracle!" I have worn it to bed every night since opening.

*Another was marking sinners with letters, though the Quakers preferred to brand the letter onto the offenders hand or forehead rather than sew it into their clothes. Yes, really. Though they did drop that early on in America.  They hardly ever do that now, though it may come back in fashion for racism.

1 comment:

  1. I'm glad you got your sweater back! For me, it's ancient t-shirts that don't want to let go. There's one, purchased sometime in the mid-90s, that my daughter has threatened to toss for years now. The only reason she doesn't is that she doesn't want to see me cry or hear me whine. I doubt a miracle will happen with it, as the fabric is not so much worn as simply disintegrating now. I fear it will shred in the washing machine someday.

    Today it was football for my offspring. Tomorrow will be the same. They gave me a list years ago of who I'm either allowed or never allowed to cheer for. Colors 1 & 2 remind me of Tennessee and Clemson. It was difficult for me to tell the difference on the field... Orange Bowl, indeed.

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