Hair Receivers and Making My Own Hair Rat

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While wandering through an antique store, one might come across something that looks like this:

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And a thought might cross the mind, "Oh, what a beautiful trinket/powder jar!"  Unfortunately, that thought would be wrong.  This is a hair receiver, a specially made container for storing ones own hair.  Nowadays this might seem like a strange concept, but with more women becoming interested in Edwardian/Gibson girl hairstyles, I feel that a revival in hair receivers is in order.

The most common hair receivers I find are these celluloid ones.

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  For hundreds of years, women(and men) used human hair in their hair pieces.  This hair was used in pieces that were added for volume('hair rolls' and 'puffs') and length('switches' and 'braids'), as well as in the wig industry, not unlike false hair pieces that can be purchased now.  Aside from the pieces that were purchased, women would collect their own hair for use in making hair 'rats' or 'ratts'.  These 'rats' were used to add volume for the elaborate hairstyles of the Victorian era, as well as for achieving that pompadour or Gibson girl look during the turn of the 20th century.  They were also used throughout the next few decades for making rolls on the lower back of the head as well as any other area more volume was wanted.

Sears & Roebuck Co. catalog from 1912 showing human hair rolls as well as mohair ones, the commercial equivalent of homemade hair rats.

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Another example from a Montgomery Ward catalog from 1916 showing hair rolls made from wool.

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And finally, another Sears & Roebuck Co. catalog from 1922 showing human hair rolls as well as wool ones.

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  During my antiquing adventures I've come across quite a few hair receivers and admittedly was clueless as to their usage until one was very clearly marked 'hair receiver'.  It was then that it clicked - and my desire to acquire all things vintage living told me that I must buy and use one of these.  So after seeing the usual celluloid ones time and time again, I found one that was unique from the rest and a very good price(hair receivers range in price from $5-$30 depending on whether they are made from cheaper plastics like lucite and celluloid or porcelain and metal with glass).

My hair receiver - made of glass and some sort of metal, with an 18th century scene depicted on the lid.

  Now comes the part which requires a lot of patience - collecting the hair.  This depends on several factors: the length of the hair, how often it is brushed, how much the hair naturally sheds when brushed, and just how big the hair rat is to be.  I have long, thick hair and I've been collecting for about a year now.  Note that I don't save hair when I travel(which is fairly often), only what is collected in my brush while I'm home.

What I've saved to this point.

  From what I have, I've decided to make one large hair rat, which I can use for Edwardian styles should I desire(though for a very Gibson Girl look a few more might be needed), or more practically for the low back of the head rolls common from the 1910s-1930s(my preferred aesthetic).

  Of course, the ball of hair collected could be used as is, but I decided to encase my hair into a hair net to help keep unruly hairs in order.

 The hair net I'm using.

  I pulled apart and molded the hair together since it was put in at various times in varying amounts to form one large mass of hair.  I then stuffed the hair into the net and moved it around to be the shape I desired.

 The hair in the net.

To keep the hair from falling out of the net I somewhat loosely blanket-stitched the opening closed, and trimmed some of the hairs that were sticking out(I may in the future add a second net after some wear, but this will do for now).

 The thread I used - the closest to my hair color, which I luckily had on hand.

Close up of the stitches.

And voila!  A homemade hair rat.

Finished hair rat and freshly emptied hair receiver.

  There are a few advantages to making a hair rat instead of buying one: a) it will match hair color perfectly since it is your own hair, b) if any bit of it peeks out while being worn, it will be invisible because it's real hair, not plastic, and c) it's free!(aside from the hair net, thread, and hair receiver, which are all completely optional)

Flipping Through: Needlecraft, August 1925

  There's no better way to learn about a time period than to read through its magazines.  Many magazines have been archived and are free to read online(which is where I find most of my sources for this blog), but I have added a few to my collection that I haven't found online.

  This post is the first in a series called 'Flipping Through', where I'll show the entirety of the inside and out of my antique magazines, and point out some interesting parts for each.

Today's 'Flipping Through' is Needlecraft from August 1925.

Photograph showing the fashion on a real person.

Color illustration for a pattern.

Illustrated fashion for woman and child.

Maybelline ad showing the original commercial mascara as a cake.

Pattern illustrations showing more of the fashion at the time. 

Electric toaster, not quite to modern standards but a big improvement of the stove top kinds.  

Another version of faux ivory.

Needlecraft Magazine
Published monthly by the Needlecraft Publishing Company

Augusta, Maine and New York, N.Y.

For The Love Of Vintage Plastics: Celluloid

"THE PERILS OF IVORY.

Celluloid, the new imitation of Ivory, is charming, but combustible."

"Caution, Charlie!  By Jove, the balls have exploded!"

(Still image from the documentary 'New Hidden Killers of the Victorian Home', clip here)

  With so many items made from plastic in this day and age, one might be surprised to know that some plastics have become collectible and valuable.  I for one would not have guessed that my vintage journey would lead to me becoming a collector of something that seems so modern as plastic, but I was surely wrong.

  One of the oldest plastics, and the first man-made, is celluloid.  First patented as Parkesine by Alexander Parkes in 1862, then Xylonite by Daniel Spill in 1869, before finally being registered as Celluloid by John W. Hyatt in 1870, celluloid is a thermoplastic whose main ingredients are nitrocellulose and camphor, both extracted from plants.  It grew in popularity because of its ability to be easily molded and carved, and was used in everything from jewelry, billiard balls, men's collars and cuffs, and the photography and film industry.   

Advertising card showing the innovation of plastic in clothing.

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  Celluloid can be recognized in a few forms.  The most common and earliest was a faux ivory, originally called French Ivory.  French Ivory, which later was called 'grained celluloid', is of a distinctive ivory to beige color with parallel lines running vertically through it, an attempt to mimic the striations seen in true ivory.

Sears & Roebuck Co. catalog from 1918 shows a plethora of faux ivory celluloid accessories.

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Photoplay magazine from 1925 advertising DuPont's Pyralin products.

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  Celluloid also took on some solid colors as well as mother of pearl finishes used extensively in dresser sets and some jewelry. 

DuPont Pyralin in 'Shell' from the early 1920s, showing off the imitation properties of celluloid, this time tortoiseshell instead of ivory.

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One of my favorite types of celluloid, Pearl-on-Amber, yet another line of Pyralin products from DuPont from the 1920s.
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  John W. Hyatt founded the Celluloid Manufacturing Company and several subsidiaries in the 1880s to produce this variety of items, but from the 1910s-1930s their competitor, DuPont, thrived in the celluloid business with their brand, Pyralin.  Arch Amerith was the Celluloid Man. Co.'s line of toiletry products from the 1920s to rival DuPont's Pyralin, but I have yet to find advertisements or much else on those products, which clearly speaks to DuPont's popularity.

 The downfall of celluloid came from its two main ingredients.  First, the nitrocellulose is known to be extremely flammable, and not just flammable, but explosive.  There have been a number of factory accidents where celluloid was produced, as well as fatalities of people who were unaware of its combustibility.

 Article from the New London, CT newspaper 'The Day', dated November 8, 1909.

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 Photograph of the ruins from the celluloid comb factory fire mentioned in the article above, December 1909.

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Article from the Pittsburgh, PA newspaper 'Post-Gazette', dated December 18, 1910.

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  Second, the camphor can become unstable within the plastic and essentially evaporate, which causes a chemical breakdown known as 'celluloid rot' (this is more so a problem for current collectors, but if not stored properly, the rot can quickly advance and even spread to other celluloid items).

Various stages of celluloid rot on a piece of my own - a learning experience for sure.

  That being said, as long as the celluloid doesn't come in contact with any source of direct heat, there's no reason to be afraid of it.  It has become quite collectible in many of its forms since being mostly discontinued in the 1950s, and is now only being produced in China to make ping pong balls, guitar picks, and as a covering for some musical instruments.

  I came upon celluloid through my love of antique decorative hair combs, which taught me the ins and outs of collecting it(see my blog post here about my comb collection).  Since then I've acquired a variety of celluloid items, all of which I will detail in a coming post.


Further Research:
Wikipedia: Celluloid
Timeline of Plastic History
The Celluloid Industries (a 1885 catalog of the Celluloid Manufacturing Co. products and their factories)
Celluloid Corporation Records (the only digital record I could find mentioning the Arch Amerith toiletry line)
DuPont Plastic History
Cleopatra's Boudoir: Celluloid Dresser Sets (another blog post with in-depth information and some beautiful advertisements)