What is a Mantua-Maker??

In 2015 I became a Journeywoman Milliner and Mantua-maker. Having served a seven year apprenticeship in millinery and mantua-making from 2008 to 2015 at the Margaret Hunter Millinery Shop in the Historic Trades Department at the Colonial Williamsburg Foundation.

During my apprenticeship my full-time job was learning and practicing the trades of millinery and mantua-making while educating a visiting public. I made clothing for programming that was used as a static museum display, worn by museum staff and purchased by private customers.

In 18th-century Virginia free and enslaved hand-stitchers were a huge part of the labor force working as seamstresses, tailors, milliners, mantua-makers, laundresses and ladies maids, to name a few. Mantua-making was one out of many trades working to clothe 18th-century people. While basic sewing was seen as a life skill, mantua-making was considered a trade. Overall, mantua-making was not a hobby (unless you were rich) and the labor prices were low enough that most women, free and enslaved, utilized the skill of a mantua-maker.

So, what is a mantua-maker?

The 1804 English Book of Trades describes the work of the mantua-maker: “The business of a mantua-maker, which now includes almost every article of dress made use of by ladies, except, perhaps, those which belong to the head and the feet, is too well known to stand in need of description. The plate is a representation of a mantua-maker taking the pattern off from a lady by means of a piece of paper, or of cloth. The pattern, if taken in cloth, becomes afterwards the lining of the dress. This business requires, in those who would excel in it, a considerable share of taste, but no great capital set up in it unless to the act of making is united the business of furnishing the materials.”

In 1771 Margaret Brodie advertises she “makes and trims in the newest taste, sacks and coats, gowns and petticoats, all sorts of ladies brunswicks and jesuits dresses, and sultana robes, robedecores.” These are different styles of upper and lower body garments that were fashionable in London and in Williamsburg, Virginia in 1771. Essentially a mantua-maker was responsible for cutting fitted upper body garments for women, like gowns and jackets; and lower body skirts, like petticoats. She was not called a dressmaker yet, but that is the best modern term to describe her work. Brodie advertised she learned of the newest styles every three months. A mantua-maker had to be quick on her feet and change with the styles. There was a demand for fashion and fashion was not stagnant. These changing styles were achieved through new clothing but also through the remaking of old clothing. A mantua-maker often made clothing with the expectation that she would be cutting a garment apart and remaking it after a couple of years.

As the definition describes above, one of the hallmark skills of a mantua-maker is the ability to cut out and fit a lining around your customers’ figure in a three dimensional manner. The shape of the lining will be predicated on the shape of the stays (18th-century support garment and predecessor to the corset) the customer is wearing. This structured bodice creates the silhouette that the lining fabric can be laid against and pinned to the stays without hurting the wearer. Then the mantua-maker takes a medium size set of scissors and removes material around the waist, the neckline and the underarm. When these curved sections are cut they have a bit of a stretch and snap into place around the figure.

Mantua-making is a skill that is learned through practice and experience. It is not inherently hard but it does require practice, patience and a trained eye to fit and form. It is an intuitive way to cut and fit a bodice. It is a very personal way to make clothing because your customer is right in front of you and providing feedback. If you have ever laid muslin on a dress form or around a customer to make a toile, then you have used a similar technique. Draping is the modern equivalent to mantua-making.

While I can describe the process, watching it is the best way to understand mantua-making. My friend Samantha Bullat is a talented costumer at the Jamestown-Yorktown Foundation (JYF). Last year they published a video of her making a gown for her co-worker Sarah. I have no affiliation with JYF and did not have a hand in making this video but it is a good illustration showing how the shapes are cut around a customer. Important time stamps:

One of my favorite projects during my apprenticeship was making clothing for women who worked in town doing physically demanding jobs. I loved collaborating with my co-workers and making them clothing that suited their work and allowed them to do their jobs better. Aislinn (pictured below) is a journeyman blacksmith and she needed her clothing to have exceptional range of motion. Below you can see the finished gown and what the shapes of the bodice looked like flat after I cut them around her. Cutting the sleeve close to her arm and setting it high under her arm gave her the ability to hammer, file and pull the bellows. Fitted clothing does not mean restrictive clothing. Aislinn’s gown is a great example that a gown was not inherently fancy. What made clothing fancy and expensive was the textile chosen by the customer. A customer typically bought their fabric first and brought it to their mantua-maker. The labor was always a minimal cost in comparison to the fabric.

It is important to remember that this type of cutting was done at a time when hand-sewing was the way clothing was constructed. The back-in-forth process of cutting a bodice, doing some sewing and then returning to the fitting works extremely well with hand-sewing. Some styles call for the bodice linings to be whipped together and the outer fabric topstitched to the lining. Sewing on curves and sewing from the outside lends itself beautifully to hand sewing.

While I have only done a little bit of mantua-making over the last several years, the intuition of cutting has really served me well. I feel very comfortable cutting out a garment without using a paper pattern (to be honest I prefer it). Apprenticing as a mantua-maker was an education in understanding a trade that laid the foundation of the couture industry. Through recreating the techniques of mantua-makers from 250 years ago it also gave me a glimpse into their embodied experience. It was also a study in self-trust and an intuitive approach to cutting out clothing. Like hand-sewing, this mantua-making requires repetition and practice but once you learn to cut intuitively you can make anything.