It was a time of revolution. Twenty-year-old Prudence Punderson was unaccustomed to hardship in her well-to-do life in a Loyalist family in Preston, Connecticut. Yet, she found herself on the shore of the Long Island Sound, bidding goodbye to all she had known, leaving her betrothed, friends, and family and heading into the unknown. Prudence, her mother and siblings, and an enslaved woman were all summoned to the safety of Long Island and the security of British occupation behind the King's lines. Upon disembarking from the ship that made port at Sag Harbor, she remarked in letters home, “But oh what a spectacle is that little, former happy place, their public worship at an end, and Sunday unregarded, almost every house evacuated and gone to rack.”
In spite of all the deprivations that people faced on Long Island during the Revolutionary War, goods could be had at a price on the black market and fashion was followed among the gentry in the small but socially conscious Village of East Hampton. Style and decorum must be maintained.
This girl, our Prudence, always put her best foot forward. Samuel Buell, a family friend and the minister of East Hampton, was quick to come to the rescue of the beleaguered Loyalist family. Arriving in Sag Harbor in his sedan chair, carried by men the entire seven miles from East Hampton, he invited Prudence to join him for a ride in the chair and supplied a horse-drawn wagon for the rest of their family and their household goods. The Pundersons’ first night was spent in the household of Reverend Buell. The following day the good minister made arrangements for the family to share a house in the village. Prudence had a keen eye for detail and admired the sleepy hamlet. In her diary, she wrote, “There are many fashionable and polite people in the town and they have very singular ceremonies among them. Each family does their own manufacturing and their buildings are very odd fashioned and set in such a beautiful irregularity that they seem to be more formed by nature than by art, methinks…”
When settled, Prudence resumed her needlepoint and textile work. Yale scholars believe that her most famous piece was created while in East Hampton: “The First, Second, and Last Scenes of Mortality” is an artistic picture in silk, depicting a room in which an African-American servant (possibly the “wench Jenny” mentioned in a family will) tends to an infant while a central figure — Prudence herself? — works her needles at a table and, on her other side, a coffin is laid. From her organdy cap to her white silk dress, the girl in “The First, Second, and Last Scenes of Mortality” is a style maven of the last quarter of the 18th century.
The years that Prudence spent in Long Island were filled with adventures. She encountered highwaymen and thieves in the night with threats from pistols and marauding privateers. She suffered from illnesses, had surgery, and survived. Near the end of the war, we find our Dear Prudence reunited with her fiance to be married in East Hampton by the Reverend Buell.
What did her early Federal Period wedding dress look like? We know because it survives at the Connecticut Historical Society — although altered to fit Prudence's daughter and recut in the fashion of the early 1800s. The colors of the gown are crisp and bright, with brightly colored silk threads and small woven flowers playing against a cream and deep-pink stripe.
The East Hampton Historical Society also maintains a collection of some of the exquisite gowns worn by the ladies of the village over the centuries. These tantalizing togs made of silk-satin and silk-charmeuse, frosted with lace, dazzle the eye and invoke nostalgia for an Age of Innocence (if only there were a time machine we could travel in, to wear them to a party!).
On a recent afternoon at the historical society's headquarters, the Osborne-Jackson House — currently undergoing renovations — Lynn Bassett, a conservator of historic fabric, laid out the dresses for inspection. She had been to East Hampton before and was delighted to be back to review the sartorial treasures. “It's like meeting an old friend!” she exclaimed, as she opened a big, white, acid-free box.
And a fashionable old friend, indeed. Lifting the precious gowns from their tissue and their boxes, she revealed their hidden secrets. Some were worn by debutantes, some by brides, but mostly by the well-heeled – parasol-toting ladies of the summer seasons circa 1890, 1900, or 1920. From time to time, over the past few decades, some of these gowns have been put on display, but for the most part they are secreted away safe from light and the perils of display.
The standard for preservation calls for acid-free tissue paper to be stuffed into sleeves and arm circles, to prevent creasing and wear, and for everything to be kept in a climate-controlled storage area. The historical Society also houses some homespun dresses and men’s work shirts from the very early part of the 19th century, all locally crafted in East Hampton homes, woven on East Hampton looms, and produced by the hands of the men and women of the town.
Amy Zerner is a familiar figure in certain artistic East End circles. A mystical woman with amethyst-purple hair, sparkling eyes, and an impish smile, she is a world-renowned textile artist and fashion designer whose wearable creations are sold privately as well as at Bergdorf Goodman in Manhattan. With jewel colors, appliqué embroidery, beading, and sequins, and fine velvets, brocades, and laces, each piece — shimmering goddess gowns, jackets embroidered with Buddhas, coats with lovers dancing across a star-lit sky — is a one-of-a-kind work of wearable art laden with references to ancient symbols, magic, and myth.
Zerner and her husband, Monte Farber, have lived on the South Fork for decades. Farber's latest published work is Enchanted Worlds: the Visionary Collages and Art Couture of Amy Zerner. It reads like a visual love story.
Many of Zerner’s fashion findings come from excursions to flea markets and thrift shops. In the upper room of her house is her studio — actually, more than a studio, it is almost a museum of findings, sequins, buttons, ribbons, and every kind of fabric imaginable. Zerner, like her colleagues at actual history museums, knows a thing or two about preserving vintage materials.
“I store my fabrics in a cool, dry area, boxing them to prevent damage from dust and light,” she said. “Sometimes I use acid-free preservation tissue. Mostly, it is the love and care that I give to each piece when folding, ironing, cutting, and sewing. These are my treasures and they hold the energy of other lives and memories.”
