Nineteenth Century Woman Tailor

Anthony took note and opened the paper bag.

Seeing the item inside, it was indeed a newly made piece, something Anthony could tell at a glance.

He could only look at it, unable to inspect it properly, and his expression turned peculiar.

"Why make something like this?"

The craftsmanship was good, evident at a glance, made with care and effort.

The fabric was fine, with cotton lining and gauze backing, embroidered and uniformly colored—a piece that could fetch seven or eight dollars.

But this kind of item was rarely bought by ladies in boutique shops. Poor families would make their own, while the wealthy would have it custom-made by a tailor.

As for corsets, his shop did sell them, but they weren’t displayed openly. Maybe one or two would sell in a month.

Considering Eloise had just helped him, Anthony didn’t outright refuse. Instead, he stroked his beard and said,

"I can put it up for sale here. If it sells, we can even split the profit 70-30."

He didn’t think there was much of a market for it. At most, it would sit on the shelf for a month, and if it didn’t sell, he’d return it to her.

Anthony thought, since it was her first time consigning something, if it didn’t sell, he could take it home for his wife to try.

If it fit, he’d keep it and encourage her to use her skills to make other things to sell. At least, her craftsmanship was better than the two women who usually consigned items with him.

In this line of work, experience and seniority meant little. Skill was everything.

He wondered which tailor’s apprentice she was—clearly talented, not lacking in brains, but perhaps a bit naive.

Seeing Anthony agree, Eloise nodded.

"Just help me sell it on the side. I’ll come back two days before Christmas."

After leaving the boutique, Eloise returned home.

She had left in a hurry that morning, wearing only thin socks. For the past few days, she had been busy working and hadn’t properly sorted out her clothes.

Thomas had stayed overnight, but by the time Eloise returned, he and the others had already left for work and school.

Eloise gathered a bucket of woolen socks, not bothering to sort whose was whose, and washed them several times before hanging them out to dry.

It was winter in New York, with snow melting and refreezing, making leather and cloth shoes and socks prone to getting wet. If left unwashed for a couple of days, they would develop a musty smell.

The room was small and often closed, making it hard for the smell to dissipate. So, whenever she had a moment, Eloise tried to stay on top of the cleaning.

Since arriving, Eloise hadn’t had time to wash her hair due to the cold and her busy work schedule.

The night before, she had asked Louise to borrow her soap to wash her hair and freshen up.

The water in the large pot on the stove was lukewarm. Using a shallow basin, Eloise bent over in the hallway, wetting a towel to wash herself.

She wet her hair first, wiping behind her ears and neck, then applied the soap.

The soap didn’t lather much, but her hair wasn’t long—just fine, soft, and naturally dark brown, with some frizz from malnutrition.

After washing it twice, she saw the water in the basin was clear. She wrapped her hair and prepared to wash her body.

A couple of days ago, Eloise had watched Louise demonstrate how to clean oneself without fully undressing.

She locked the door, then took off her long dress, leaving on her blouse and an old, loosely fitted corset underneath.

She wet her skin with the towel, then used the soap to clean the damp areas. She rinsed the towel, wrung it out, and wiped again.

She repeated this process from head to toe, using two or three towels, until the water in the basin was dirty. She changed the water and continued until no more grime came off.

Exhausted, Eloise didn’t put the corset back on. Instead, she changed into a clean blouse and lay on the bed, drying her hair.

In households where people were reluctant to use coal, hygiene conditions were likely worse.

Her aunt was a relatively clean person, but her work was so demanding that after coming home, she would eat a quick meal and go straight to bed.

The next day, it was back to work, with no holidays throughout the year. Even taking half a day off was rare, leaving no time to manage the household.

When Eloise wasn’t working, she would help deliver newspapers, taking Bella along, leaving little time for cleaning.

However, two days before Christmas, her aunt and Louise were scheduled to have a day off.

They said they would use those two days to tidy up the house.

They planned to sell what they could and clean what needed cleaning, so they wouldn’t have to deal with it when moving after Christmas.

Eloise had only about a week left to find a new place.

For this week, she decided not to make any more items for the boutique. Instead, she would focus on completing the orders from the girls at the hotel, leaving herself more time to go house-hunting.

A few days before Christmas, she would check the boutique to see if her item had sold.

She believed that anyone who tried it on wouldn’t be able to resist such a soft, comfortable corset.

The beginning was always the hardest, but Eloise wasn’t in a hurry.

After wringing out her hair, she took the pillowcase off the bed and washed it, planning to dry it by the stove for half a day.

The deep brown and dark green linen and cotton long dresses she wore had been washed and mended.

Though her pockets were nearly empty, she at least wanted to appear clean and presentable.

By noon, she considered making herself some barley porridge to get by.

But after some thought, Eloise took two silver coins downstairs to the store and bought a large piece of buttered bread and a small packet of ham.

The bread with ham was a bit dry, but at least the smoked meat had some flavor and wasn’t too gamey. In an era where culinary disasters were all too common, it could be considered a delicacy.

After lunch, Eloise stepped out.

She borrowed yesterday’s newspaper from the landlady downstairs, saying she was planning to look for a new place. The landlady handed it over without hesitation.

In this era, all kinds of information could be found in the local daily paper.

From small ads for rentals, wedding announcements, obituaries, and job postings, to major news like the enactment of laws, political commentaries by famous critics, public disputes among the elite, and even serialized horror novels—everything could be printed in the newspaper.

Eloise took the newspaper back to her room and scanned the small print in the corners, looking for private rental listings.

Besides going through agents, one could also find rentals in the newspaper, though the properties listed there were usually a bit more expensive and more presentable.

‘Midtown, 34 Rosabelly Street, a two-bedroom, one-bathroom apartment available, weekly rent of twelve coins, monthly rent of forty-five coins, currently vacant.’

Eloise recalled that the small room they were currently living in wasn’t too far from her workplace.

It faced the main street, had good lighting, and was slightly more expensive.

The weekly rent of six coins was just about manageable for them.

The two-bedroom apartment, though it had a bathroom, was twice as expensive and located farther away, so it wasn’t an option.

‘...23rd Street, Building 17, two-bedroom, one-bathroom, weekly rent of nine coins.’

Eloise noted down the address of the nine-coin apartment and another one for eight coins.

In the afternoon, she tidied up and headed out to the neighborhood near the factories, a well-known area for cheap rentals among the working class.

She looked for the narrow alleys sandwiched between low-rise buildings, where the streets were too narrow for cars. This area was infamous for its dirt-cheap housing, so much so that even agents avoided it.

The family living next to Eloise had started looking for a place here earlier that week.

She spotted a woman doing laundry under a porch and walked over to ask if there were any vacant rooms for rent nearby.

The woman, who seemed to specialize in washing clothes for the young men in the area, was quite plump. She wore a tattered apron, sat on a stool, and had a cloth wrapped around her head. Her sleeves were rolled up as she used starch to stiffen the collar of a worn-out men’s shirt.

As long as the collar looked decent, the shirt could still pass as presentable.

Many poor men, wanting to appear respectable without spending too much, only paid to have their collars starched. They wouldn’t have the rest of the shirt washed, fearing it would wear out too quickly.

With a stiff collar, a necktie, and a wool coat over it, no one could see the dirt. If it smelled bad, they’d just spray some cheap cologne.

This was the fashionable way of the time, and every apprentice was expected to have such an outfit.

The laundry woman wiped her hands on her apron and pointed Eloise in the right direction.

“The door at your six o’clock, look for the old lady on the first floor. She’s the landlady of that building.”

“Thank you,” Eloise nodded, smiling at her before heading to the indicated spot.

But she remained cautious. The area was a mix of all sorts of people, and while asking for directions, she had noticed two lazy drunks reeking of cheap alcohol passing by.

The narrow alley was wedged between two factories, and the houses here felt damp and gloomy.

After navigating the narrow path, she knocked on the first-floor window. An old woman inside coughed twice before opening the window.

“What do you want? Why are you knocking on the window?”

Hearing the voice, Eloise relaxed her instinct to bolt. She looked up and replied, “Excuse me, do you have any rooms available for rent?”

After a moment, the old woman, wrapped in a thick shawl, got up. She peered out the window, then came out of the stairwell and opened the building’s main door, holding a set of keys and gesturing for Eloise to come in.

“Come on in. Three rooms became available last week. A girl about your age rented the nicer one a couple of days ago. The remaining two are on the second floor.”

Eloise nodded and followed the old woman up the stairs.

The building was indeed poorly lit. The stairwell was dark, and the wooden steps creaked with every step, some of them loose.

The old woman, dressed in Empire-style clothing that suggested she was in her eighties or nineties, clung to the railing as she wobbled her way up, saying,

“The two rooms on the second floor: one is a single room for five coins a week, and the other is a two-room for six coins.”

Eloise didn’t want to stay here, but since she had already come this far, she decided to follow the elderly woman up the stairs.

On the third floor, the sound of a door opening echoed, followed by the patter of footsteps.

She looked up, her gaze following the staircase past the old woman, and at the corner, she unexpectedly came face-to-face with a former colleague.

It was Nasha Flamir.

…