Clothing in Gonzales: What They Wore During "Come and Take It" and the Texas Revolution
When imagining the settlers of Gonzales during the early days of the Texas Revolution, especially around the "Come and Take It" incident of October 1835, it’s important to remember that their clothing was far from uniform. It reflected not only their frontier setting but also their mixed cultural backgrounds, economic limitations, and the looming transition from settler life to full-scale war.
Everyday Clothing at the Time of "Come and Take It"
In Gonzales: Hope, Heartbreak, and Heroes, the local militia's clothing is described with vivid detail. Most men wore buckskin breeches and hunting shirts or jackets, practical garments adapted to the rugged conditions of frontier life. These outfits were often worn thin and stained by use and weather, creating a patchwork of color, from “bright yellow to glassy black.” It wasn’t just frontier function—it was necessity. Their garments were handmade, repaired, and repurposed, not mass-produced.
Headwear varied widely, reflecting the personal tastes and backgrounds of the militia. Some wore coonskin caps, evoking the mythos of the American frontiersman, while others sported high-crowned sombreros, a nod to the influence of Tejano culture and proximity to Mexico. Footwear was also inconsistent. Many men wore moccasins—some homemade from “home-tanned leather”—while boots were rare. In fact, one account suggests there might not have been a single pair of conventional boots in the entire force assembled at Gonzales.
Most carried flintlock muzzle-loading rifles, with a shot pouch and powder horn slung across their chests. Nearly every man also had a knife in his belt, and some carried pistols. These weapons weren’t ceremonial—they were the tools of survival on the frontier and, increasingly, of war.
Gonzales: The Edge of Civilization
Gonzales was a frontier town, founded as part of Green DeWitt’s colony, and it was one of the westernmost Anglo-American settlements in Mexican Texas. This location made it a buffer zone between Comanche territory and the Mexican interior. That meant two things:
Constant threat of Indian raids and later Mexican military reprisal.
Limited infrastructure and sparse trade access.
The people of Gonzales mostly wore handmade or homespun garments—buckskin, homespun wool, and coarse linen. Clothing was utilitarian, patched, and often reused. As the book Gonzales: Hope, Heartbreak and Heroes notes, boots were practically nonexistent. Instead, settlers used homemade moccasins, and hats ranged from coonskin caps to wide-brimmed straw or felt hats, whatever they could cobble together from what was availableGonzales hope heartbrea….
Women made garments from repurposed fabrics, as seen with Sarah DeWitt ripping a wedding dress to make the “Come and Take It” flag . Trade goods were scarce, and most textiles were either brought in by oxcart from the coast or Mexico—when peaceful trade was possible—or spun and sewn locally.
San Antonio de Béxar and Austin’s Colony: Supply Lines and Status
Now compare that to San Antonio de Béxar, a city that had been settled since the early 1700s and functioned as a regional seat of Mexican power. It had:
Presidial military forces, who often had regulation uniforms.
Access to Mexican supply lines coming from Laredo and Saltillo.
A community of Canary Islander descendants, Tejanos, and merchants who had long-established trade networks.
Residents in Béxar had access to imported fabrics—cotton, wool, even silks for the elite. Men might wear wool waistcoats, tailored breeches, and sombreros finos, and Tejana women could be seen in brightly colored dresses, rebozos, or lace mantillas. Though not lavish by European standards, the difference in cut, material, and finish would be immediately visible compared to the rougher frontier settlers.
Similarly, Austin’s Colony (San Felipe) was closer to the Brazos River and Galveston Bay, making it more connected to Anglo-American trade routes via Louisiana and New Orleans. Merchants brought in finished goods like calico, boots, pewter, buttons, and rifles, and wealthier settlers often retained more Eastern U.S. fashions. This was a place where some men might wear broadcloth coats and women owned parasols and bonnets.
What the Clothing Tells Us
In Gonzales, clothes were an extension of survival—pragmatic, rugged, often homemade. A rifle, powder horn, and knife were as essential as a shirt or shoes.
In San Antonio or Austin’s Colony, clothes could reflect status, identity, and connection to the broader world—symbolic of ties to Mexico or the U.S.
The contrast between the rough-edged, war-ready settlers of Gonzales and the politically-connected gentry of San Antonio or merchant-settlers of San Felipe is not just visual—it’s ideological. Gonzales wasn’t dressing for display. They were dressing for defense.
Clothing of the Women and Children
During the Runaway Scrape in 1836, when many Gonzales families fled east ahead of Santa Anna’s advancing army, their clothing was an even starker testament to hardship. Freezing rain and mud turned garments into survival hazards. Blankets and clothes froze solid overnight. Most settlers had no real leather shoes; instead, they wore homemade moccasins, often soaked through and barely holding together. Children walked shoeless through knee-deep water, and people abandoned bundles of clothing along the road to lighten their load.
These details show the stark contrast between life at the time of the "Come and Take It" skirmish in October 1835 and the devastation of early 1836. In October, the settlers were still on the offensive—unified, gritty, and proud. By March, they were broken refugees, their clothing symbolic of a people worn thin by war, weather, and fear.
How Clothing Changed as the Revolution Progressed
The attire of the Texian forces evolved slightly as the revolution escalated. By the time of formal campaigns—like the Siege of Bexar and the march to San Jacinto—some soldiers were outfitted with militia-style garments, including cotton trousers, linen shirts, and wool coats, particularly if they had support from wealthier towns or donors. However, even then, standardization was virtually nonexistent. Unlike a formal national army, the Texians lacked uniformity. Many fighters continued wearing hunting garb, while others acquired Mexican-style military gear, such as serapes, cavalry sashes, or bandoliers—especially those like the Tejano troops under Juan Seguín.
As Stephen Hardin notes in Texian Iliad, “Texian clothing remained as varied as their ranks.” From Anglo-American frontiersmen in buckskin to Tejanos in trimmed jackets and slouch hats, the Texian Army was a patchwork of personalities and identities.
What It All Meant
What the men and women of Gonzales wore wasn’t just practical—it was symbolic. The absence of boots, the threadbare buckskin, the homemade moccasins: all spoke to their improvisation, resilience, and raw defiance. Clothing became a kind of visual narrative. Unlike modern armies, there was no dress code—but in that rough unity, forged from patched leather and homespun cloth, they looked like a people willing to stand for something, even if they had to do it barefoot.
Their appearance may not have matched that of professional soldiers, but it reflected a frontier reality: people ready to defend their homes with whatever they had. And that—like the cannon they refused to give back—was something worth remembering.