​On Wednesday, July 26th, after an afternoon at the Marjorie Russell Textile Research Center in Carson City, Nevada, I headed up to Virginia City. I’d never been there before--I knew there’d be a few old buildings, maybe a museum or two. I figured I could do some research on gold mining, and submerse myself into the atmosphere of the old west.
 
I checked into the Gold Hill Hotel (supposedly the oldest hotel in Nevada) on the outskirts of town. I’d booked a room in the older, original part of the hotel, thinking it would be more interesting to stay there than in the more expensive, recently built addition.
 
Now, before I go on, I have to confess that I’m a ghost and haunted-locations fanatic. I frequently try to book haunted rooms in haunted hotels when I’m traveling. My family laughs at me (lovingly, I’m sure) whenever I whip out my cell phone to try to record an Electronic Voice Phenomenon (EVP). I watch the shows. I even thought of joining a local ghost-hunters group.
 
So yes, I was excited that I’d be staying in ‘Rosie’s Room’ at the Gold Hill Hotel. It was a haunted room, with videos on YouTube to attest to the haunting.
 
The hotel was quiet when I arrived. My car was the only one in the parking lot. The place was quaint and my room was, well it was small and pink. There were a few small bug carcasses showing through the thin canopy above the bed. As a good friend later pointed out, the canopy was doing its job.
 
The floors in the room were slanted—I wish I’d had a marble as I would have videotaped that sucker moving from one side of the room to the other. Proof of ghosts.
 
The room was old, it had character, and I was excited to stay there for the night.
 
“My shift is over in a few minutes. You’re the only one staying here.” I looked at the blonde hotel manager, a woman about my age. She held the room key towards me. “If you need anything, well, you probably won’t need anything. The owners live across the way. If there’s an emergency, just go out onto the balcony and yell. Hell, if there’s an emergency, dial 911.”
 
“Uh, okay.” I couldn’t decide if I should make a joke or cancel my reservation. I went out onto the balcony that overlooked the 2-lane highway leading to the heart of Virginia City. A ferociously loud motorcycle drove past.
I heard Blondie behind me come out onto the balcony. “It really is safe. I’ve been here five years and nothing’s ever happened.”
 
Ah, shit. Well that’s tempting fate, isn’t it?
 
I took the key from her hand. “Are there any places open for dinner in Virginia City?” I’d come this far so I might as well stay. Plus, if anything did happen, I argued with myself, I’d have a great story to tell. Assuming I survived.
 
By 8 PM I was back at the hotel, having eaten enough at a place in Virginia City to last me until the next day. I went downstairs to the lobby to write and camped out on an old wooden table. There truly were no other people, which was good. I had the whole hotel to myself.
 
With no one there, no TV, no radio, I thought I’d crank out thousands of words, sitting at that wooden table. But my ears were more active than my fingers and every cricket outside and every drip-drip-drip of the faucet in the bar held my attention. I walked around and peaked out the windows into the darkening light. The huge orb spider in its web stopped me from cracking open that window. Drip-drip-drip. I felt like Jack Torrance. All I needed to complete the scenario was a wife, a child, and a drinking problem.
 
After forcing out less than a paragraph, I made my way back up to Rosie’s Room. It was time to face the haunting.
 
Sitting there alone, I decided there was no way in hell I was about to do an EVP session. Or invite anything, anyone, to come visit with me. The only thing I could do was lock my door (there were three locks because, yeah, it’s safe), tuck myself into bed, and hope for the best.
 
I left the light on in the bathroom.
 
Eventually I fell asleep, waking up an hour later to some noise, imagined or not. Eyes wide open, I listened for the noise again but didn’t hear a thing. I fell asleep again. Then woke again, repeating the pattern until morning.
 
Did I ever see anything? No. Feel anything? No. Sense anything? No. However, I sure as shit did not get a good night’s sleep.
 
I was going to spend the day tooling around Virginia City, playing tourist, and I knew I’d be too tired to drive home that night. So guess what I did? Booked another night. Because, why not? I was in a different room, an even smaller room, but it wasn’t (supposedly) haunted. There were also other guests staying at the hotel and I heard them moving around, making alive noises.
 
I slept deep and well that second night. 

If I go back to Virginia City, which I'm sure I will, I'll stay again at the Gold Hill Hotel. It was an experience and I'm sure there are more to be had at that there hotel.

On Wednesday, July 26th, I drove almost four hours to Carson City, Nevada to meet with Jan Loverin, a textile researcher who heads up the Marjorie Russell Clothing & Textile Research Center. I went there as an introduction to clothing from my time period, specifically looking for clothing that women miners in the 1880s might have worn, clothing for men, but interested in any nuggets of info she had to share with me.
 
I’m a complete novice when it comes to period clothing, or 'costumes' as Jan called them. For women I know there was usually a corset involved. Bloomers? What the heck was the difference between petticoats and skirts? And did wealthy men wear Unionsuits just as the working men did? Or did they wear something else?
 
Jan, taken back a bit by my ignorance, was a trooper and gave me a crash course on the basics of clothing from that time period. She also pointed me in the direction of some solid introductory materials. Jan gave nearly two hours of her time and showed me a few samples of dresses, corsets, other undergarments. I then spent almost another hour organizing my notes and exploring the library.
 
I was able to take pictures, but it was purely for research purposes. I had to sign an agreement that I wouldn’t publish or post any of them. ☹ So, wikkicommons, here I come. Or, you’ll just have to use your imagination.
 
First off, she didn't have information about women miners but she suggested some resources which are listed at the bottom of this post.

Women’s clothing: Layers
The first layer, closest to the skin was a chemise. This was easily laundered, certainly more so than the outside layers. The best way I can describe it is that it looks like your typical grandma’s white nightgown with short sleeves. Usually made of cotton or linen, I believe. Jan thought that before the 1880s in America, women usually wore the chemise or something similar to it for bed as well. However, she wasn’t sure.
 
Second layer was the corset. These weren’t worn as an outside layer, but on the inside. The ones I saw were laced in the back and hooked in the front. The boning was apparently made from whale bones. I was very excited to find a corset labeled ‘wedding lingerie’. On Winnie’s wedding night, she’s wearing a special corset and chemise—I was thrilled to discover I’d gotten it right!

What about underwear? Bloomers? Drawers? According to Jan, many women didn't wear these particular undergarments until beginning in the early 1880s. However, I've also subsequntly read that women did wear them--they were not permanently closed at the crotch, however and were secured either by ties or possibly buttons. Supposedly this helped with going to the bathroom.

​But what about menstruation? How did they deal with that? Surprising, there's not a lot of information about this and experts disagree. The best Jan could come up with is that there might have been a belt or ties of some sort that secured layers of material.