One of the first things that struck me when I started working in the textile storage room at the National Museum of Bermuda was just how many uniforms were tucked away, far more than I ever expected, and in such a variety of styles, ranks, and time periods. I hadn’t realised the Museum held such a rich collection of historical clothing, and I’m sure many others don’t either.
From gleaming brass buttons to intricate stitching, each piece told a story. As a curatorial intern working in the conservation lab, I’ve had the chance to dive into this collection while helping improve how these textiles are stored. Textiles, whether uniforms, dresses, or flags, are highly vulnerable to light, humidity, and pests, and in Bermuda’s warm, humid climate, those risks are even greater. In this blog, I’ll take you behind the scenes of our textile storage project, why it matters, what we’ve done, and what I’ve learned along the way about conservation, history, and the care it takes to protect the past.
Current textile storage room with uniforms hung in protective muslin bags and a variety of hats placed on individual trays within a movable shelving unit.
At NMB, we house a variety of historical textiles, including flags, military uniforms, and garments that reflect Bermuda’s rich history. Textiles are among the most delicate materials in museum collections. They can deteriorate due to temperature and humidity fluctuations – which we have all experienced in Bermuda, dust accumulation, exposure to light, and even improper handling. Over time, fibres weaken, dyes fade, and mould can develop in humid environments. To combat these issues, we follow preservation protocols to slow deterioration and extend the life of textile artefacts. Ensuring these items are stored correctly is essential to preserving their stories and significance.
Details of a 19th-century women’s bustle dress. Made of silk with fabric-covered buttons and lace trim. The textile shows signs of fraying, discolouration, and fading, reflecting the fragility of the material over time.
As our textile collection expanded the existing storage space became insufficient to meet the growing needs of the collection, a problem many museums face. This presented a great opportunity to rethink how we can store these delicate artefacts. One of the biggest upgrades was the creation of a dedicated storage area designed to both protect the textiles and make better use of space. The perfect location for this storage was found in our laboratory. Since windows in the building posed a risk of light exposure and potential weather-related damage, our facilities manager modified them to block incoming light, creating a more stable and controlled environment for the collection.
The next step was making proper shelving to house the Museum’s hat collection. Using adjustable wire shelves, we could customise each level to fit hats of similar size and shape for maximum efficiency. To make handling easier, I created removable trays from Coroplast sheets, allowing each hat to rest on a tray. This way, hats can be removed with an accompanying tray and accessed individually without disturbing others, reducing potential risks from unnecessary handling.
When handling textiles, we must always wear gloves not only to protect ourselves but also to preserve the garments. Gloves prevent oils, dirt, and moisture on our hands from transferring onto the fabric, which can cause staining or deterioration over time. The two main types of gloves used in museums are nitrile and cotton gloves. Disposable nitrile gloves are versatile and used for handling a wide range of objects. They provide a firm grip, especially on smooth or slippery materials, and are resistant to chemicals and moisture. However, as great as they are, they are not environmentally friendly and are often single-use.
On the other hand, reusable cotton gloves are ideal for handling delicate textiles, books, and paper objects. Their soft, lint-free fabric prevents abrasion, but because they can absorb dirt and moisture, they must be kept clean and changed regularly to avoid cross-contamination. While some prefer cotton gloves for their gentleness, I enjoy using nitrile gloves. They fit snugly to the hand like a second skin, making it easier to handle objects carefully and giving a secure grip, something I find especially helpful when working with more fragile or slippery items.
After securing the shelving we next photographed, documented, and labelled each item. Each item in our collection is assigned a unique accession number. This numbering system ensures that all artefacts are carefully documented, making it easier to track, research, and preserve within the Museum’s collection. Photographing objects ensures that all items were accounted for, their conditions assessed, and any outdated records or images were updated.
Seamen’s cap with GNTC cap tally, pictured with its label and accession number
With the shelving complete, we moved on to improving hanging storage for uniforms. Closet wire shelving was installed and reinforced with brackets to securely hold a variety of garments, each differing in material, length, and weight. Like the hats, we checked each uniform for its accession tag, photographed it, and gave it an updated label. To provide further protection, we hung each piece on a padded wooden hanger and enclosed it in a muslin bag. The Muslin is essential, as it is a natural cotton fabric that allows air to circulate, helping to prevent moisture buildup that could lead to mould or mildew. It also acts as a protective barrier against dust, dirt, pests, and light exposure, which can cause fading and deterioration over time.
When handling the military uniforms, one thing that surprised me was how heavy they were and the variety of materials. Some were made from thick wool and often included full sets of trousers, shirts, jackets, and bulky overcoats. It made me think about how physically demanding daily life must have been for the soldiers who wore them, especially in harsh environments like the frigid winters of Europe or the wet, muddy conditions of the trenches.
Military jacket worn by the Light Infantry
Over 3,000 Bermudians served during the First and Second World Wars both men and women contributed to the war effort, with many travelling overseas to enlist in a wide range of Allied forces, including the Royal Navy, Royal Marines, Royal Air Force, Royal Canadian Navy, Royal Canadian Air Force (RCAF), U.S. Air Force, and the Merchant Navy. One of the uniforms I worked with was a heavy RCAF overcoat, its deep blue wool, gold buttons, and structured form stood as a powerful reminder of the individuals who served. Uniforms like these help tell the story of Bermudians who contributed to the war effort far from home, and preserving them ensures that those stories are not forgotten.
Through the process of reorganising textile storage, we were able to uncover certain collections that hadn’t been touched for some time. It was an exciting experience to sift through the Museum’s collection of period clothing worn in Bermuda during the 19th and early 20th century. One of the most striking observations was how clearly these items bore the marks of those who wore them.
Sweat, for example, is among the most persistent stains found on historical textiles—especially around underarms, collars, and cuffs. Even with regular washing during their time of use, these stains often remain due to the chemical bonding of salts and proteins to the fibers. Over time, sweat oxidises (reacts with air) and causes discoloration, turning yellow or brown, particularly in natural fabrics like cotton, linen, and silk. This was especially evident in military jackets and women’s bodices from the mid-19th century.
Perspiration stains on the inside lining of a woman’s bodice, possibly from the 18th–19th century.
These signs of wear transform garments from static artefacts into vivid records of lived experience. The damage and discoloration speak to movement, labor, and daily routines, offering intimate glimpses into personal habits and social roles. Each piece told its own story, and we thoroughly enjoyed examining the unique styles, colors, and patterns that made each garment distinct.
As someone who enjoys sewing, I was completely mesmerised by the craftsmanship, from delicate stitching and hand-sewn appliqués to shimmering sequins that had somehow survived over time. The fabric choices were beautiful and expressive, and I couldn’t help but imagine the women who once wore these garments, fully dressed in hoop skirts, bustles, corsets, and stays, all in Bermuda’s hot and humid weather! Each garment felt like its own time capsule, and we had a lot of fun admiring the unique styles, colours, and tiny details that brought the past to life.
Unstable artefacts, objects that are actively deteriorating or at high risk of damage, are an inevitable part of museum collections, often resulting from decades of use, environmental exposure, and the natural aging of materials. When we encountered garments in this condition, their fragility demanded immediate attention. Careful handling, specialised storage, and, in some cases, conservation treatments were necessary to slow further deterioration. After thoroughly assessing their state, we chose to rehouse them in acid-free textile boxes, ensuring their long-term preservation for future study and display.
This part of the project was where I really got to tap into my crafty side. For cost efficiency and to create a customisable solution, we constructed boxes for three delicate military jackets worn by what we believe to be the Light Infantry. Using Coroplast sheets, we carefully measured and cut them to fit each garment perfectly. To properly support each jacket, we used acid-free tissue paper to create padded logs, cheekily called “sausages” for the arms and “pouffes” for the chest and collar. These cushions help the jackets maintain their shape, preventing creases and stress points that could lead to further damage while in storage.
Military jacket worn by the Light Infantry, carefully supported with acid-free tissue pouffes and housed in a custom-made Coroplast box.
Roughly 60 British Infantry regiments served in Bermuda over time, stationed across the Island at key military sites. Prospect Camp, one of the main garrison areas, became a hub of military life in Bermuda, with troops frequently parading on the grounds and living in barracks that overlooked the City of Hamilton. Among the regiments stationed here was the 71st (Highland) Light Infantry, which served in Bermuda from 1831 to 1834. Their presence, and that of others who followed, left a lasting mark not only on Bermuda’s landscape but on its military history, with Prospect Camp serving as a vital base well into the 20th century. Uncovering and rehousing these jackets gave me a tangible connection to this legacy and the soldiers who once wore them.
Official first-day cover, released on 10 November 1988, depicting uniforms worn throughout Bermuda’s military history. The 50-cent stamp features a private’s uniform of the 71st (Highland) Light Infantry, stationed in Bermuda from 1831 to 1834
Military Parade on Prospect Camp cricket grounds, 1906
While we have made great progress, textile conservation is an ongoing process. In the coming months, we will continue refining our textile storage and improving our collection management strategies.
Proper textile storage is essential to preserving Bermuda’s cultural heritage. Through careful handling, improved storage solutions, and best conservation practices, we can ensure these artefacts remain intact for future generations. As I carefully put the last uniform in its muslin bag, attached its label, and hung it up, I stood back and felt a quiet sense of pride.
What started as a storage challenge turned into one of the most rewarding parts of my internship. This experience taught me that conservation isn’t just about preserving objects; it’s about preserving stories, lives, and the threads that connect us to the past. It also showed me the value of teamwork, creativity, and patience. There’s something really special about working with your hands to care for history, and knowing that, in some small way, you’re helping to carry it forward.
