Category: Costume Construction

1797 Watermelon Sleeveless Bodice, Part II: Patterning & Construction

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This story begins in my previous post (which you can read here) in which I share the backstory and inspiration for this garment. I’ll be carrying on from where I left off. But first, a quick side story!

Mr. Q saw the title of this post and asked “What is a watermelon sleeve?” An excellent question, I think! I explained that watermelon is my description fpr the colors of the garment I’m discussing. But… I do rather wonder what a “watermelon” sleeve might look like…! After all, there are many historical sleeves with fun names (bishop, bell, pagoda, beret, gigot, and mameluke all come to mind quickly, though I can’t think of any that are named after fruit. If you can, let me know!).

Leaving that tangent behind… back to the story!

Patterning

The pattern started with the lining pattern for the dress that I knew fit and would be worn under the sleeveless bodice as well as the bodice of “A Robe c. 1795 – 1803” on pages 44 and 45 of the original printing of Janet Arnold’s Patterns of Fashion 2. I liked the idea of the pleats on the exterior to provide interest on my otherwise solid fabric. It didn’t occur to me until very late in the process of making this garment that most of the pleats would be covered by the neck trim. Oops! Oh well! Below, a photo of the front of the bodice. The pleats are the topstitched lines running downwards from the shoulders.

I ended up with separate patterns for the exterior and lining front pieces, but the side back and back pieces were cut from the same pattern. I’ll explain how I made them.

For the front lining piece, I started with the dress lining, as pictured below. By starting with this, I knew that the sleeveless bodice would easily fit over the dress and have similar seam lines.

I adjusted this pattern to have a little bit of wearing ease by adding ¼” to the bottom edge, ¼” to the neck edge, ½” across the center back piece, and ¼” across the side back pieces.

To that, I superimposed the PoF robe because it had a very low front bodice (clearly intended to be worn with a dress underneath) and it had a front pattern piece that curved downward towards the front, with a separate side front piece. Ah ha! I could create a dart going towards the waist in the area between these two pieces and have a one piece lining while also easily having a two piece exterior to make the pleats easier! This would reduce bulk in the finished garment and allow for the necklines of the exterior and lining to be exactly the same.

The photo below shows the front pieces I ended up with. On the left is the lower part of the front lining (the shoulder area is extended with a separate shoulder piece in the lining) and the center front part of the lining. For the lining, these were cut as one piece (with the dart marked).

If you look carefully, you might notice that the grainline on the center front piece is off relative to the side piece. Why is that, you might wonder?

Well, for the front exterior I started with the lining piece but changed the single dart to be the pleats I’ve previously mentioned. I didn’t see bust darts in my inspiration fashion plate or observations of 1790s overdresses, but in 18th century dresses pleats are used used in varying depths to adjust a flat piece of fabric to fit the curves of a body, so I used that method.

First, I traced the lining pattern onto a new piece of paper, including the dart. Then, as you can see in the photo below, I cut along the dart edge closer to Center Front, then up a line that continued to the neck edge I wanted. (I also cut down to the bust point from two other points along the neckline, but later realized I didn’t need those cuts.)

Next, as you can see in the photo below, I rotated the center front piece down towards the dart, making that area a little narrower and creating space (essentially another dart) going up towards the shoulder. Then I drew my new grainline on the front piece for the exterior, heading up towards the shoulder. This is why it looks off relative to center front. When worn, those ‘darts’ are closed when the exterior is fitted over the lining and center front is pulled into its proper place on the body.

These exterior darts — hidden in the seam line — are what creates that downward curve to the pattern pieces that I observed in PoF.

The two ‘darts’ are taken up in the pleated side front piece of the exterior, which is fitted over the center front piece and the darted bodice lining. In the photo below, the dart in the lining is visible on the left and the silk is pleated to fit and visible on the right.

After creating the paper pattern, I made a mockup and did a fitting to see how well my adjustments worked. They were pretty good, but I did have a few notes — I extended the bottom edge by a little more across the front, set the overlap shape I wanted (based on the fashion plate), set my armhole seam allowance, decided on the height of the peplum, and adjusted the front neckline to sit nicely over the dress.

I made these adjustments to my paper pattern and then moved on to cutting out my pieces in real fabric:

  • A proper left front lining
  • A proper right front lining
  • Proper left side front and center front exteriors
  • Proper right side front and center front exteriors
  • Straps in lining fabric
  • Side back pieces for lining and exterior
  • Center back pieces for lining and exterior

The Backstory: Construction

With a pattern established, I went down the rabbit hole of figuring out construction methods.

I had been reading Patterns of Fashion 6: The Content, Cut, Construction & Content of European Women’s Dress c. 1695-1795 and my mind was full of details and excitement about 18th century construction methods, so I happily went down a path of sewing in an 18th century manner! But… at some point in the middle of things I realized that I would need to combine some early 19th century construction methods into what I was doing, too, since my sleeveless bodice idea does span two different eras of construction styles.

For example, from an 18th century perspective turning seam allowances of the lining and exterior towards each other and whipping the pieces together made perfect sense. From a 19th century perspective, however, finishing the armholes with this method seemed odd (usually in the 18th century the seam allowance would have been left raw on the inside when the sleeve was attached, but I wasn’t adding sleeves!) and inserting a peplum into the bottom edge seemed odd, too (often a ruffle was applied on top of an edge, rather than being sandwiched between the exterior and lining, but that wasn’t the look I wanted). After many brain somersaults, I wound up mashing these two methods of construction together to create a transitional garment (which does actually make sense, since this was a transitional period for construction methods!).

Actually Making The Spencer

I thought it would be fun to use up linen scraps for the lining, rather than cutting into yardage from my stash. The lining pieces weren’t that big, right? Well, it turns out they were bigger than I thought. I ended up using 3 or 4 different types of white linen and adding in a fair number of piecing seams to get the shapes I needed for these lining pieces (you can see some extra seams in the lining in the previous photos). It definitely added time, but I had time while making this garment, so it was fine.

Once the lining pieces were ready to go I could cut the silk layers. The side front of the silk exterior had the shoulder straps included and was extra wide in order to create those all-important pleats. Below is a photo of what the pleats looked like before they were topstitched flat. They are not quite all the same depth and slowly spread out as they move towards the shoulder seam in the back (at the top of the photo).

Here is a summary of the 18th century elements I used in the construction of this garment: much piecing of the lining fabrics, whipping the lining pieces together along the seams, whipping the lining into the exterior around the edges, topstitched pleats in the front exterior for shaping over the bust, a shoulder seam that is topstitched onto the back piece, many edges bound in narrow strips of silk, and the neckline trim being tucked to shape around the neckline curve.

Here is a summary of the 19th century elements I used in the construction of this garment: gathering the peplum and sewing it to the bodice with right sides together then whipping the lining seam allowance on top and turning in the seam allowance of the armholes and whipping the lining into place.

In the photo below, most of those methods have been employed to get the bodice to this state, which is basically finished aside from the peplum, neck trim, and closures.

The neck trim is a pieced strip of the green silk bound in running stitched ¼” wide strips of pink silk (hence the watermelon name!). The assembled band was running stitched along the outer edge and then eased into place around the neck edge. Below is the easing in progress. It took many pins!

And here is a closeup. You can see some of the whip stitched piecing seams in the lining and the minute easing of the neckline edge of the trim.

And that was it…! Entirely hand sewn, with many small details, lots of justifying and research, and, in the end, a relatively small garment! Next time, photos of the finished garment being worn!

1797 Watermelon Sleeveless Bodice, Part I: Background & Inspiration

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First:

The Backstory

As with last year, The Footwork and Frolick Society hosted a Bridgerton themed croquet afternoon this summer, which seemed like a great event to debut the 1794 dress I posted about making last fall (I did, in fact, wear the 1794 dress — you can see photos in this past post). My only hesitation about that idea was that the dress is all white, which didn’t feel quite as colorful as I might hope for given the Bridgerton theme. So I started brainstorming…

Prior to this brainstorming, I had happened across a 1 ½ yard piece of lime green silk in the discount bin at one of the local fabric stores for $6. Silk at that price felt too good to pass up, even in a very bright color and yardage too small for a dress. I figured I would find a use for it eventually!

During my brainstorming, I came back to the idea of the lime green silk… It seemed wonderfully bright and fitting for this particular intended purpose! And with a small yardage amount, it seemed perfect for a Directoire accessory.

What is Directoire? The Encyclopedia Britannica defines this style as the “Neoclassical style of dress, furniture, and ornament popular in France during the period of the Directory (1795–99).” Given that many of the inspiration images for my dress were French fashion plates from this period, or close to it, I think it is fitting to use the description of Directoire for this garment.

Choosing The Style

I first thought about making a sash (similar to the one I posted about in 2023 that hasn’t been worn yet), but decided I wanted something different to vary up my possible looks.

After looking at many fashion plates, books, and extant garments, I realized I was drawn towards spencers; however, when I really paid attention to dates it struck me that the popularity of those garments seems to be concentrated in the 1800s and 1810s when Neoclassicism had really settled in, dresses were not as fluffy as they still were in 1797, and the description of “spencer” was fully established. (I explain what a “spencer” is in this old post from 2011. There are many photos of extant examples included in that past post, as well.)

I really liked the idea of a sleeveless bodice. So I set about looking for specifically late 1790s examples of these over white dresses. It turns out that the sleeveless idea (in the specific date range of approximately 1794-1798) is unusual — though it is not uncommon to find long and short sleeved variations.

Below is an example of a short-sleeved bodice from the Journal des Luxus und der Moden (The Journal of Luxury and Fashion) in 1797. This German fashion journal was published in Weimar. You can click on the fashion plate below to go to the Rijksmuseum, where you can zoom in to see more detail!

Here is another example showing a long sleeved bodice (actually called a spencer in the description!). This was published in Costume Parisien in 1799. As you might guess from the name, this fashion journal was published in Paris.

Finalizing The Details

I decided to combine the crossover detail and vertical lines of the Luxus und der Moden style with a sleeveless variation visible on the left in this next fashion plate, which is from The Gallery of Fashion. This fashion journal was published in London by Nicolaus Heideloff. Clicking on the fashion plate will take you to the Metropolitan Museum of Art, where you can zoom in on the fashion plate and learn more about Heideloff.

I also borrowed a peplum idea from the extant spencer below, which was sold by Christie’s in 2008. I liked the look of a peplum and appreciated how this one rises at the center back, which is a nice feature to highlight the rising back design element on the 1794 dress I planned to pair with this garment.

Many spencers have some sort of trimming around the edges. I was inclined to use something bright and silly to match the lime green silk and in the stash I found scraps of vibrant pink that went well with the green. I decided to use this as a edging, placing it in similar locations as on the Christie’s spencer.

And that means my plan was mostly in place! Next I had to think about how I would construct this garment and move on to patterning it. I’ll share about that in another post!

A Mysterious Domino, Part II: Making & Wearing

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This is a continuation of my last post, which shared the background of why I created this black domino cape as well as research about what a domino is and its history.

Making My Mysterious Domino

Having decided on an idea, and probably conducted more research into its history than was strictly necessary for this purpose, I proceeded to figure out how to bring my idea to life. I had the additional goal of not wanting to spend money and therefore restricted my domino-endeavors to the stash.

I started by looking through my stash binder (I posted about my stash organization in this past post) to see what fabrics I had on hand that might be able to be made into a quick and easy domino. I came up with just one — a gifted-to-me three yard piece of a black synthetic sheer, with alternating satin and sheer narrow stripes and a bit of metallic thread woven in between each stripe. I liked the drape of the fabric, as I thought it would move nicely while dancing, and I liked that while being black, it was also interesting and had more to look at than a plain solid. Three yards was plenty of fabric to allow for a large hood and plenty of length!

I think this fabric might be fun to use for something else someday, so I was loathe to actually cut it to make a domino cape. From past experience (and my patterning books), I was aware of the general shape and construction of the hoods of 18th century capes, which I was more excited by than the shape of the main body portion of capes from this period. The hoods often have quite a bit of fabric pleated into a central spot on the back of the hood and the bases are often pleated into the neck area, as well.

I started experimenting with my fabric and safety pinned a central pleated area in the center of my three yard piece. Then, I safety pinned a center back seam in the two ends of the piece, which hung down below the ‘hood.’ The next step was to safety pin a row of large pleats around what would be the ‘neck’ area, to draw in the width of the fabric around the shoulders. And… I basically had a cape!

A bit rough and ready, but my safety pinning did create a cape with a hood!

I fiddled a bit, by turning under some of the depth of the hood (and pinning it back near the central pleats) as well as pinning up swags at the front shoulder areas. I agreed with Erté (in the quote in my previous post)– that my domino should have a distinguished cut to keep me from looking like a shapeless bundle!

At that point, I realized that most of my pinned areas really didn’t need to be sewn… I could just leave in the safety pins, making it much faster to take apart if I wanted to do that someday! In the end, the only two things I sewed were the center back seam (with basting stitches by hand) and the hem (again, with basting stitches by hand). Calling it a ‘hem’ is generous, I think! I really just turned it up once with the raw edge left visible.

Wearing My Mysterious Domino

My historically plausible, mysterious looking domino cape was ready to go. I was all prepared for The Footwork and Frolick Society’s early 19th century themed Masquerade Ball!

I chose to pin the cape to my dress rather than having it closed at my neck. It made the hood pretty long in the back, but it kept the cape from pulling backwards and feeling claustrophobic, while also opening up the front view and not covering my entire dress.

And, since I felt like black mask, dark hair, and black hood was all a bit much around my face, I put my hair up around a huge bun form to raise the hood and added white flowers in front to add some contrast and a relief for the eyes.

Paired with white, gold, and pearl accessories, I created a fun new variation on an old dress!

Re-Imagined 1885 Fancy Dress (HSM #9)

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The Backstory

In 2016, I made a dress for a Fancy Dress Ball inspired by a dress worn by Alice Gwynn Vanderbilt in 1883. Alice’s now-famous dress, made by The House Of Worth, celebrated Electric Light as its theme. The dress uses beading and metallic elements (as well as an electric torch, for the original wearing!) to visually reflect light as well as communicate the electric light theme via decorative motifs. I posted an image of the inspiration gown and a link to more information about it in my original post about my dress in 2016, which you can view here.

I was inspired by the trimmings on the gown, but needed to create a dress with little expenditure (much different than the budget for a Worth dress!). To achieve this, the goal when I made my dress in 2016 was to use as many materials as I could that I already owned. The main dress fabrics were already in the stash from old projects and the silver net was leftover from trimming the Versailles sacque I posted about wearing recently.

Below, a photo of the dress in 2016, with a lantern standing in for “electric light.”

There were a few small changes I wanted to make after the first wearing of the dress, but I didn’t have a need to wear it again for years. Fancy Dress events are not all that common even within the already limited realm of historically clothed events! And with the original trimmings I didn’t like the dress for regular wear. Plus, for a number of years after making the dress the events I was attending did not encompass the 1880s.

More recently, however, I have had more opportunities to wear clothing from this period, as The Footwork and Frolick Society has hosted a few events with themes that can include the 1880s. Therefore, I decided to re-trim the Fancy Dress dress into a more regular, less Fancy Dress, ballgown style for the Yuletide Ball in 2024.

Inspiration

This time, my inspiration was a mashup of ideas from a variety of images.

From the fashion plate below, published in the Revue de la Mode in February 1886, I pulled information from the gown on the right, with the pleated fabric along the v-shaped neckline and asymmetrical decorations (which I guess are feathers) on the shoulder and skirt.

From the photo below of British actress Lillie Langtry (Original Publication: People Disc – HU0206. Photo by Downey/Getty Images), I pulled inspiration for the “sleeve” idea I wanted to incorporate. The pattern of the fabric used for the bodice in this photo was also reminiscent of one of the fabrics I used to update my dress.

And finally, I was also inspired by the beaded swags (and chiffon “sleeves”) on the c. 1887 dress in the collection of the Kent State University Museum in the photo below.

Dress Update Overview

For the re-make of the dress, I wanted to maintain my goal of using materials already on hand. I still had small scraps of the navy blue satin in my stash as well as the silver net. I also went through my fabric stash binder to see what other fabrics and trimmings might work and found that the best bets were a piece of polyester velvet flocked with silver swirls that I’d purchased at Joann Fabrics probably twenty years ago when I had just started sewing and loads of silver ribbon that I had been gifted to me. The blue and silver colors fit the colors of the existing dress perfectly and I thought there was a sort of New Year’s aspect to the color scheme, as well. (I also purchased the Joann fabric in burgundy and green (both with gold swirls) and had made Christmas decorations out those, but I don’t think I ever used the piece of blue, so this was a great opportunity!)

With my materials decided, I moved on to the sewing part of the project, starting with unpicking the original trim from the dress. I had made it knowing I might someday want to change the trimmings, so they were not sewn into seams and were pretty easy to remove. That left me with an almost entirely navy blue dress, relieved only by the silver pleats at the bottom of the skirt.

Then I went back and considered my original list of changes, which included:

  • Boning the center back edges so they would lie flat when laced closed
  • Adding a matching piece of satin behind the lacing holes to hide any white fabric of undergarments
  • Making sure that my chemise wouldn’t poke out of the armholes

Quoting myself, from 2016… “these are minor changes and I’m not sure when I’ll have the opportunity to wear this again so it might be awhile before they happen.” I’ll say! It only took 9 years!

Historical Sew Monthly

My goal of using stash-only materials for this dress re-do makes it fit into the Historical Sew Monthly 2025 Challenge #9 Blue:

Make an item that features blue, in any shade from azure to zaffre.

Just the facts:

Fabric/Materials: Approximately ¾ yard silver net, just over 1 yard of navy velvet with silver motifs, and scraps of navy polyester satin.

Pattern: My own.

Year: c. 1885.

Notions: Approximately 23.5 yards of ¼” silver ribbon.

How historically accurate is it?: 90%. Polyester and modern synthetic ribbon do not have accurate fiber content. And my patterning is conjecture. But the overall idea is pretty good.

Hours to complete: I didn’t keep track.

First worn: December 7, 2024.

Total cost: Free, since everything came from the stash and was either gifted to me or purchased ages ago!

Dress Update: Back Closure

Following the original list of changes, I added a placket behind the lacing holes and added plastic bones along the very back edges, to help hide undergarments (the white color really does pop against the navy blue of the dress!) and keep the back laying flat when laced closed.

Dress Update: Sleeves

When re-examining the dress in 2024 with fresh eyes, one of my biggest desires for change was to better fill in the armholes of the dress and provide a decorative element. Yes, evening dresses in the 1880s were often sleeveless, but when really looking closely at them again, I found that while not having sleeves, they do almost always have something that obscures the armhole and even the upper arm. I am more likely to call these styles swags or drapes of fabric, as they aren’t really proper sleeves, but they are certainly set into the armhole in some way. I wanted something like that for the re-do of this dress.

I haven’t had a need to pattern something like this for this period before, so I looked through my historical pattern books for places to start. Interestingly, I didn’t find much. There was one sleeve that seemed like a possible starting place, but when I mocked it up it didn’t really do what I was hoping for at all!

So that left me with the decision to create a pattern from scratch. Thinking about what didn’t work in the mockup and my inspiration image, I proceeded to drape a mockup that achieved what I was hoping for. I didn’t have my dress form handy, so it required a fair bit of going back and forth between pinning and trying on the bodice to get the right shape. But I did! It’s a strange shape, for any sort of sleeve pattern. But that makes sense, since the sleeve drape is a not-really-sleeve!

Dress Update: Apron, Sleeve Swags, and Ribbon Flowers

I pondered creating some sort of beaded fringe for the armhole (and maybe even the waist, as can be seen in the third inspiration photo, above), but decided against it for time and material reasons. I really did want to stick to the stash!

Even if the beaded fringe wasn’t going to happen, I liked the idea of something to set off the wonderfully pointed bodice so that it would show up and not blend into the skirt. So in the end I decided to use some of the velvet from the stash to make an apron layer for the skirt, as was very common on dresses from the 1880s.

I started with making the pleated neck swag, so I wouldn’t run out of fabric, and then used all of the leftover fabric to make the apron. Due to this fabric restriction, I patterned the apron based on what was possible with my fabric, using a general understanding of the how these skirt elements were patterned in this period. The front of the apron is a curved piece that is pleated into the back on each side. The back piece is a bit scant, but has a few pleats along the top to give volume and descends to a point at the center back, since that was the shape of the fabric that was available! I used up pretty much all of the blue velvet!

For the sleeves, I made flower shaped sprays from lengths of ribbon that were tied into loose knots close to each end and then folded into quarters to make one loop and two ends. These individual elements were then combined and sewn together to make the flower-like formations, with larger scale ones on the skirt and smaller ones on the bodice.

The sleeve dangles were made from the same ribbon, knotted in the same way, that was folded to make a longer and shorter side and then tucked under the sprays on the shoulders.

Below, you can see the individual spray elements and a length of ribbon ready to be added as a sleeve dangle.

Finished Updates

Here is the updated dress! The blue velvet pleated v-shaped neck swag completely ignores the neck shape of the bodice underneath, which is more of a square shape. The same fabric is used again to create an apron, stitched to the outside of the waistband of the skirt to reduce bulk.

The silver net is used over the blue satin scraps to create “sleeves” that are pleated into the armhole and decorated with sprays and dangles of silver ribbon.

The “sleeves” wound up looking a little odd where the meet the back of the bodice, but that’s more due to my original patterning of a very inset armhole in the back than it is the sleeve pattern. It’s a lesson/change for the next bustle period evening gown I make, whenever that is!

I didn’t know what to do with the back of the velvet swag, because I wanted it to be easily adjustable depending on how tightly the back was laced. I ended up with this pointed arrangement that accomplished the goal of flexibility.

The armholes, left side front of the bodice, and right side front of the skirt are decorated with the sprays of looped silver ribbon. I used x4 — 4 yard spools of ribbon and half each of x3 more spools that were 5 yards each.

I calculated how many sprays and dangles I wanted for each section, but in the end I was running out of ribbon and started to just combine and move things around until they looked reasonable. Sadly, that means I don’t have a good record of how much ribbon went into each element or how long each piece of ribbon ended up being. I think that the smaller sprays were made of piece of ribbon that were 10″, the larger sprays on the skirt were made of pieces of ribbon that were 16″, and the arm dangles were 11″ before being folded.

Wearing

I wanted to find a simple but still 1880s hair style for this wearing, so I was pleased when I came across a photo of women in 1880s evening dresses with their hair drawn back and pulled up into simple large chignons on the backs of their heads. I wore that style with the addition of a few silver hair pins to tie everything together.

I also reused some of the star brooches from the first iteration of this dress, adding one at the center from of the bodice, two on the left side of the skirt, and some on the left side of my hair. They stand out well in the photo below, in which the two of us are bobbling about, making the ribbons on my dress and beaded trim on the dress on the left shimmer, sparkle, and sway.

Other Photos From The Event

This was a ball for bustles! There were multiple people wearing dresses with this feature, including the dress above, as well as the burgundy velvet dress below.

Finally, a cheerful holiday view into the ballroom. I wasn’t feeling my best at this event and therefore didn’t dance, but everyone else had a grand time! I look forward to the next event in which I can participate in dancing with the bustle! It’s really quite fun to experience the movement of dancing with all of your dress behind you!

The New Yellow Sacque: Construction Details

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Photos of the finished yellow sacque are on their way, but before I get to posting those I’d like to discuss the construction details of the dress. I’ve already posted about the accessories and other parts of the ensemble. You can view those blog posts at the links below.

c. 1770 Pink Panniers
18th Century Blue Foundation Petticoat
A White 1780s Petticoat
Yellow Sacque Petticoat
Engageants For The New Yellow Sacque
A Stomacher for the Yellow Sacque

Overall Goal

Whereas my goal for the Versailles Sacque was to hand sew everything and use historically accurate materials and methods, my overall goal for this new sacque was to machine sew as much as possible and use materials from the stash. This pair of goals influenced my choices for patterning and constructing the new dress. (If you’d like more information about the Versailles Sacque, you can read all of the posts about this project here.)

Patterning

The sacque itself is made from the JP Ryan Pet-en-l’air pattern. This is the same pattern I used for my Versailles Sacque. For the new Yellow Sacque, I used a larger size than I previously did. I also tweaked some of the dimensions to fit the measurements of the two friends I knew I wanted to be able to wear the new dress. This included things like increasing the back shoulder width and the bicep circumference.

I started with a mockup, which allowed me to check and see if the changes I made to the paper pattern worked on a real body. And they did! I only had minimal changes to make — some of which was taking out a little bit of the ease I’d added in. Oh well! That happens.

Early Construction, With The Dress In Pieces

After cutting out all of the pieces, there were some steps that were easier to do before attaching things together. For example, I added boning and ties at the back of the lining in order to add adjustability underneath the back pleats of the dress. Ties or lacing like this was common for sacque style dresses in the 18th century.

I was pleased to reuse bones and bone casing from an old deconstructed corset as well as ivory ribbon that was gifted to me. Using things from the stash!

I also assembled the sleeves, with their linings, before attaching them to the dress. Below are the sleeves with the sleeve inseams pinned and ready to sew. By folding the lining and exterior right sides together and stacking them, there is a neat trick by which you can sew once to get both lining and exterior inseams sewn with one go (and all of the raw edges hidden between the layers.

Here are the sleeves turned right sides out. The bottom edges are already pressed under in preparation for being hand sewn later in the process. The top edges are pinned and ready for basting, so that they can be set into the arm opening as one layer.

Back Pleats

Eventually the process moved on to the back pleats — the signature feature of a sacque! I carefully followed the pleating instructions and hand stitched the various stacked box pleats in place. Then I went to put the back neck piece on… Oops!

They widths didn’t match! This was not a pattern problem. This was my problem! When I adjusted the pieces (the backs and the back neck piece) for a body shape with wider shoulders I didn’t remember to adjust the spacing of the pleats across the back accordingly.

So, I carefully removed the stitching holding the pleats and re-organized them to make the back wider. I didn’t want to change the center due to the depths of the pleats, but I was able to move the side pleats over towards the arm holes. I don’t think the change is noticeable. And extant garments show a variety of pleating patterns and widths, so I feel perfectly justified from that perspective.

Sleeve Ruffles

Before I started this dress, I’d been looking through my new copy of Patterns of Fashion 6, from The School of Historical Dress (information and purchasing information about the book is available here, on The School of Historical Dress website). In the book (on pages 15 and 16, to be precise), there are diagrams of sacque patterns laid out in the most economical way possible. This includes various pieced seams for some parts of the garment as well as a way of cutting the sleeve ruffles that nestles them together to save fabric. I was intrigued! And I decided that for this yellow sacque I wanted to try out this method.

Essentially, a rectangle is cut on a diagonal with each diagonal portion making up a flounce. With the rectangle folded along a short side, this results in one triangle that can be cut on the fold while the other one ends up with a seam in the middle. Additionally, one of the flounces ends up being upside down in terms of the pattern on the fabric. I think this is a fun, historical quirk (as compared to what we would likely find on a modern garment) and I also don’t think it’s noticeable once the flounce with the upside down pattern and seam is placed underneath the other flounce.

So, I cut my flounces accordingly, with a wavy edge! Below is the result, with the two pieces separated slightly to show the geometry.

After the first diagonal separation, I also updated the scallops a little further to make each layer of flounces slightly different in shape than the other. The extra bits I cut off to do this are pictured below.

Hemming

Other steps were completed and eventually the dress looked like a dress! It was time to think about hemming it!

I wanted a narrow hem of about ½”. That’s easy to do, but I was worried about the metallic threads on the wrong side of the yellow fabric snagging on the train while being worn. I’ve seen this happen and know it can create pulls in the fabric that I wanted to avoid. But I didn’t want to put on a linen facing (as might have been used in the 18th century on what seem to be rare occasions), because I didn’t want an obvious line of stitching along the top or the weight and drape of that part of the lightweight silk dress to be different than the rest of the garment.

One trick I know of to help with this is to put a facing of tulle over the underside of the train. This makes a smooth surface to drag on the floor while not adding weight or making an obvious line along the top at whatever point the facing stops.

I looked in my stash and found a one yard piece of ivory tulle that would be just the right size for this purpose. A single layer of the ivory blends very well with the yellow silk!

The tulle facing tapers away to nothing around the side seams of the dress and extends up about 6″ above floor level at the center back.

Below is a photo showing part of the hem of the dress with the ivory tulle pinned in place. I pieced the tulle where needed, which was not in the same places as the seams of the yellow silk.

And here is a closeup of the wrong side of the fabric, where the metallic threads are clearly visible on the left and the tulle is just noticeable on the right. One it was all pinned in place I used a sort of running prick stitch to catch the tulle to the yellow silk. This resulted in very small stitches on the yellow silk (or where possible, I caught the metallic threads so that the stitches wouldn’t be visible at all). The stitches are not at all noticeable when the dress is being worn.

Materials & Time Spent

This dress (accounting for all of the individual parts of the ensemble) used:

  • 10.75 yards of the yellow figured silk
  • 3.25 yards of cream cotton (1.25 yards for for the sacque lining and 2 yards for the petticoat)
  • Scraps of ivory silk
  • Scraps of natural canvas
  • 1 yard ivory tulle
  • Embroidered/sequin bits from approximately ½ yard of gold lace

As well as small notions such as ivory ribbon, bones and bone casings, and thread.

I didn’t keep track of how much time I spent on this project, which was a relief in some ways. It was nice to just make it and not count. My photos show that I started patterning and mocking up the pattern in fall of 2023. I know I cut the pieces out in the winter of 2024 while my notes were still fresh. And then I was busy and didn’t start sewing until summer of 2024. I finished the dress on September 28, 2024. So it took me about a year of not-at-all consistent work — a Saturday here, a day or two of vacation there, and some hand sewing in the evenings. For this project, I’m not going to try and estimate the hours, but just bask in the knowledge of not keeping time.

And that’s it! This dress is made of pretty wonderful fabric that steals the show without additional trimmings, so I didn’t add any aside from accessories (such as the stomacher). Photos of the finished garment will be coming soon!

A Story Of Two Tuckers (HSM #6)

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One of my goals for the second wearing of my Versailles sacque was to finish a small detail that didn’t make it into the first wearing back in 2016 (you can read about that exciting adventure in this past post). Below is a photo from that first exciting wearing of the dress. My new goal: to fill in the neckline of the dress with a bit of lace known as a ‘tucker’.

In addition, I also wanted to have a second tucker to complete the neckline of the new Yellow Sacque that I was working on.

Accordingly, over the summer of 2024 I dug around in my stash to find a suitable lace to use for these simple accessories. I came up with a 1 ⅞” wide lace that I’d purchased a roll of 100 yards of from Debs Lace and Trims. (I’ve purchased quite a quantity of lace from this shop over the last 15 years and have great things to say about it. I’ve never found better prices, which is excellent for historical projects that need large quantities of lace. I say that with no ulterior motives. I’m not affiliated with the store in any way!)

I followed the instructions on page 122 in The American Duchess Guide To 18th Century Dressmaking by Lauren Stowell and Abby Cox to make these two tuckers. They are exactly the same except that one is slightly longer (by 3″) than the other.

The ends of the lace are neatly hemmed, as you can see below.

And the lace is whipped to a 1/4″ cotton twill tape, as you can see in the photo above as well as the one below.

And that’s it! This is my entry for the Historical Sew Monthly 2025 Challenge #6 Accessorize:

Accessories add polish to your outfits, helping to create the perfect historical look. Create the perfect period accessory for yourself.

Just the facts:

Fabric/Materials: Approximately 2 yards of 1 ⅞” wide lace (for each tucker).

Pattern: From The American Duchess Guide To 18th Century Dressmaking by Lauren Stowell and Abby Cox.

Year: c. 1770.

Notions: Approximately 1 ¼ yards of 1/4″ white cotton twill tape (for each tucker) and thread.

How historically accurate is it?: 90%. Entirely hand sewn, made from plausible looking materials, and using a pattern that is backed up by lots of research. I just give a little off for the fiber content of the lace and the use of ¼” cotton tape rather than ½” linen tape.

Hours to complete: About 1 hour per tucker.

First worn: October 5, 2024.

Total cost: Approximately $3, for both tuckers! The lace was just $0.10 per yard and the twill tape was also purchased in bulk — I probably only used about $1 or $2 worth.

A Stomacher For The Yellow Sacque (HSM #12)

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One of the many parts of the new c. 1770 Yellow Sacque ensemble that I’ve been slowly posting about is the stomacher. This is the triangular shaped piece that fills in the front of the dress, covering the undergarments worn underneath.

18th century stomachers come in a variety of shapes and styles. Some are more pointy and triangular, some are more wide and rounded. Some match the dress exactly and others contrast with the dress fabric.

The stomacher that goes with my Versailles sacque (which you can read about in the past post discussing the construction details for that dress) is more of the wide, rounded, and matching-the-dress variety. So for this new dress I decided to go in the opposite direction and make a stomacher that is more pointy, triangular, and made of contrasting fabric.

I was particularly inspired by the dress and stomacher combination below, which is in the collection of the LA County Museum of Art. I love that the gold embroidery on the stomacher is completely different than the trim on the dress and that is completed on an ivory colored base that is also completely different than the dress fabric itself.

Woman’s Dress and Petticoat (Robe à la française). England, circa 1760. Silk plain weave with weft-float patterning and silk with metallic-thread supplementary-weft patterning, and metallic lace. Gift of Mrs. Henry Salvatori (M.79.118a-b).

With that idea in mind, it was time to figure out how to achieve that look! I dabbled in embroidery in 2020, but definitely not enough to feel up to the elaborate style and cost of materials to achieve this look from scratch. I did have a fabric in my stash, however, that has lovely gold embroidered motifs on a bronze net background. I’ve cut out the motifs and used them before with fantastic results, so I figured I could do that again for this purpose. (The full net fabric was used in my 1912 Burgundy and Gold Evening Gown made in 2012 and the motifs were used as appliqués in my 1893 Bronze and Pink Evening Gown in 2012, as well.)

For this project, some of the helpful motifs from the lace were along the edges of the fabric. Others were in the middle. The motifs were not always symmetrical, so in many cases I had to piece them together to make them look reasonable for this purpose — especially in the central budding/dripping areas of the stomacher. I used approximately 30 individual sequin/embroidered bits, some as small as a single leaf!

Below is a photo of the stomacher with all of the individual gold bits pinned in place.

After that, all I had to do was use an appliqué stitch to attach them around each edge! I like that sort of work (it’s the same process I used for my 1940 Schiaparelli Evening Dress last year). It’s not hard, but just takes patience. The most patience is needed when the thread gets caught on a pin!

Below is the completed stomacher.

It really sparkles in the light, as the gold embroidery also has gold sequins on it. That lovely sparkly element was hard to capture in a photo. I did try! Below is a view that shows the sequins a little bit better.

I know that spangles (flat metal discs) were in use long before the 18th century. So while my sequined modern lace appliqués may not be perfect on a historical-reproduction scale, I do think it’s reasonable to think that something similar would have been used in the 18th century to help reflect light in the halls of Versailles or other palaces of the period.

In addition to the gold bits, I also had scraps of ivory silk shantung in the stash leftover from making my fluffy 1903 petticoat back in 2011. I used one of these scraps for the visible ivory section of the stomacher. The back of the stomacher is made of a scrap of unbleached cotton canvas, also from the stash (this is not historically correct, but it did the job of stiffening the stomacher very well!). A photo showing these fabrics up close is below.

The canvas and silk layers were bagged out, the opening edge whipped closed, and then the appliqué stitches applied only through the silk. The cotton canvas provides stability for stiffening the stomacher as well as pinning into the dress.

This stomacher qualifies for the Historical Sew Monthly Challenge #12 The Final Touch:

Make an accessory or garment that is the finishing touch to an outfit.

Just the facts:

Fabric/Materials: Scrap of ivory silk, scrap of natural canvas, and embroidered/sequin bits from approximately ½ yard of gold lace.

Pattern: The base was adapted from the JP Ryan Pet-en-l’air pattern.

Year: c. 1770

Notions: Thread.

How historically accurate is it?: 90%. Entirely hand sewn. The construction methods are historically plausible, though I believe this would have been embroidered in the 18th century rather than appliquéd. The fiber content and weave of the base fabrics are not accurate.

Hours to complete: I didn’t keep track. Let’s say 6.

First worn: October 5, 2024.

Total cost: I’m going to call the scraps free. My guess is that I spent about $10 per yard on the lace over ten years ago. So let’s say approximately $5.

A White 1780s Petticoat (HSF #7)

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The plan for the yellow sacque ensemble I’ve been working on was to provide an under petticoat that would help the yellow silk petticoat (that I posted about in November 2024) hang nicely and be opaque. I thought I’d completed this goal in December 2023, when I re-used fabric from an old Regency style dress to make a base petticoat (you can read the details about that here).

As I started working on the yellow petticoat, though, I realized that the silk was very thin, and that the blue under petticoat (made from the dress) was distorting the yellow color, making it look washed out and less vibrant. Ugh! What to do??

I determined that a light, neutral color under petticoat was needed and looked through my stash to see what I has in enough quantity for a new petticoat. The goal was to make this from the stash!

I found that I still had yardage of the mystery $1 per yard fabric I’d purchased two ten yard rolls of about ten or twelve years ago. I’ve used it for many projects, including all sorts of historical underwear and other projects (my recent 1790s petticoat and bum pad, a recently updated 1810s petticoat, lining a sheer 1895 blouse, lining a 1953 dress… and probably more things that aren’t coming to mind right now!). It’s very versatile!

Above is a front view of the new petticoat. I made this in exactly the same way as the blue petticoat, referencing the same tutorials, etc. Essentially this is a tube that is pleated at the waist, with ties to hold it on the body.

The front has an outward box pleat at center front, while the center back (pictured above) has an inverted box pleat. The pleats are finished off by on the grain strips that form the ½” waistbands. Ivory satin ribbon ties are set into these waistbands.

Given that I had to make a whole new petticoat, it was my goal to make one that I could reuse for other purposes. Namely, I have 1780s ensembles in my sights and I wanted this petticoat to be able to be used for those. So it was important to me to level the petticoat in a way that would make sense for that purpose, but I also needed to make sure the petticoat to be long enough in the front to fully back the yellow silk for the sacque project.

I’m pleased that with some careful figuring I was able to accomplish both goals! This petticoat doesn’t sit evenly over the pink panniers for the yellow sacque, but it does sit evenly over a not-quite-finished Scroop Patterns Frances Rump for a 1780s style! In order to know this would work, it meant I also had to make the Frances Rump and get it far enough along to be put on so I could figure out the leveling. More on the Frances Rump later! For now, a photo (below) of the insides of the white petticoat.

In the photo, the back is flipped down, showing that the skirt is leveled in a way that is pretty straight across. You can just see a little extra fabric length poking out of the waistband on the right side. The front of the petticoat is facing the top of the image. You can see how it needed to be a little bit shorter (therefore more fabric turned down to the inside) to accommodate the lack of bum pad on the front of the body.

The petticoat is finished with a whipstitched 1″ hem. It’s just the right length for me (and luckily also for the person who wore it in October), but might need to be whacked up with a basting stitch if I loan it to a friend with shorter legs. That’s easy, though!

And that’s it!

This garment qualifies for the HSM Challenge # 7, Always In Style:

Make a garment or accessory that is appropriate for more than one historical period…or even a historical piece that can be worn with modern clothing! (Note that the piece should still be ‘historical’, not just ‘historically-inspired’.)

Just the facts:

Fabric/Materials: Approximately 3-4 yards white striped cotton.

Pattern: None, but I referenced both of these tutorials on constructing 18th century petticoats. Katherine’s tutorial is for a petticoat with an uneven length (to go over panniers, or a bum roll, for example). Rebecca’s tutorial is for a petticoat with an even length (the same length all the way around, to be worn without extra supports). Both tutorials have construction information, Rebecca’s includes a bit more detail in terms of which stitches and methods to use.

Year: Loosely 1700-1790, but leveled to be appropriate for c. 1785.

Notions: 3ish yards of ¼″ ivory polyester ribbon and thread.

How historically accurate is it?: 70%. Accuracy gets knocked down because: 1- all unseen seams are machine sewn, 2- I used polyester ribbon for ties, 3- I haven’t seen research that shows cotton being used at this time for a single plain petticoat of this sort.

Hours to complete: 5? I didn’t really keep track.

First worn: October 5, 2024.

Total cost: The fabric was $1 per yard. The ribbon was gifted to me. So approximately $4.

Engageants For The New Yellow Sacque (HSM #6)

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I’m trying to get in all of my Historical Sew Monthly 2024 posts before the new year! So in that spirit, here is another one!

Above is a closeup of the fluff that makes up the arm openings of the new yellow sacque I mentioned in my last post (where I shared details about the petticoat for the new sacque) as well as my Versailles dress from 2016. Part of the fluff is the sleeve ruffles on the dresses and part of the fluff is the engageants — lace for the Versailles dress and a double layer of ivory silk for the new yellow sacque!

Engageants are sleeve ruffles. The Oxford English Dictionary traces the word back to the 16th century with its origins in French.

These new engageants are made of two layers of silk gauze, inspired by the ones displayed with the lovely yellow dress below by the Royal Ontario Museum.

Robe à la française Spitalfields (London), England. Silk extended tabby (gros de Tours) with liseré self-patterning and brocading in silver lamella and filé Georgian Rococo. 1750s. Gift of the Fashion Group Inc. of Toronto in memory of Gwen Cowley. ROM2009_10909_22.

I specifically wanted the semi-sheer quality as a change from the lace engageants that accompany my Versailles sacque (which you can read about in this past post detailing construction information about that dress).

I looked through my stash and realized that the best fabric I had for this project was salvaged from an old ballroom dancing dress I’d made. Here is a blast from the past for you! The elusive Mr. Q is even hiding there, behind my head… But back to the dress. It was made pre-blog, so no photos of it have made it here before.

I was so proud of it! But after a fair bit of wearing this dress, I moved on to creating new ballroom dresses and sacrificed this one for parts. The rhinestoned lace was re-used in a dress that did make it onto the blog in 2013 (documented in this past post), but the float — that dangling piece hanging from my wrist that floats in the breeze while dancing — was simply put into my fabric stash, which is where I found it when looking for engageant material!

The float was an odd triangular piece, so I had to do some piecing (adding center seams, for example) to make my engageant pieces fit. But that’s fine! In all the fluff you can’t see the seams.

And in fact, the pattern I used, from 1769, was intended to create zero fabric waste, which intentionally added seams, as well. The scalloped pieces are stacked together with the scallops facing each other to efficiently use a single rectangle of fabric.

Completed engageants are below. The seams are not obvious!

Every individual silk piece for these was narrow hemmed on all the edges and then the seams were butted, whipped, laid flat, and pressed. Below is a close up of a seam and a scalloped bottom edge.

Once all of that was done, the two layers were laid on top of each other and whip gathered along the top edge. This was then sewn to a ¼” cotton tape. This allows for the engageants to be removed to be cleaned or used with another dress someday.

And that’s it! These qualify for the Historical Sew Monthly Challenge #6 Up Your Sleeve:

Level up your sleeve game by making a garment where the focus is on the sleeves.

Just the facts:

Fabric/Materials: Approximately ½ yard of ivory silk gauze.

Pattern: From page 14 in Patterns of Fashion 6 (written by Janet Arnold, Sébastien Passot, Claire Thornton, & Jenny Tiramani).

Year: 1769.

Notions: Approximately ⅔ yard of ¼” white cotton twill tape and thread.

How historically accurate is it?: 95%. Entirely hand sewn. The construction methods are historically sound. The fiber content and weave may not be perfect.

Hours to complete: 8 ¾.

First worn: October 5, 2024.

Total cost: I have no recollection of what I paid for the silk gauze many years ago. Plus, at this point this fabric is being re-used, so might be called free regardless. The twill tape was bought in bulk and cost less than $1 per yard. So let’s say approximately $5.

Yellow Sacque Petticoat (HSM #12)

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Over the last year or so I’ve been working on another new ensemble: a second 1770s sacque dress (also called a Robe à la Française or sack-back gown) to be friends with my original Versailles dress (which you can read all about in this past series of posts). My goal was to have a new dress that I could loan to two different friends so that they could join me in 18th century splendor. Luckily, the two friends I have in mind are not too different in circumferences!

The new ensemble has many individual garments — under petticoat, over petticoat, the sacque itself, a tucker, and sleeves flounces (or engageantes) — so there will be a number of posts coming up that share details about these various pieces. This post is going to focus on the over petticoat that I made for this ensemble.

The petticoat front is made up of the yellow jacquard fabric that the dress itself is made out of, while the sides and back are made of a cream colored cotton. No need to use expensive fabric where it is unlikely to be seen! This was a common 18th century practice. Above is an image of the front of the petticoat. Below is an image of the back of the petticoat.

There are three fabric panels — two of the cotton and one of the silk. These are seamed together and then divided in half, such that some of the cotton falls on the ‘front’ of the petticoat (since it makes up ⅔ of the circumference of the skirt). There are slits cut into the sides at the halfway points. These are narrowly hemmed by hand.

Below is a closeup of the top the petticoat, which shows the pocket slit on the right side.

The front and back are pleated in the same way, though with differing quantity and depth of pleats. They have an outward box pleat at the center and additional deep knife pleats towards the sides. The pleats are held in place by front and back waistbands that are finished at ½”. Below, you can see the inside of the front and inside of the back, showing the knife pleats and waistbands.

And here is one more interior closeup of the waistband. You can see that it was sewn on by machine and then flipped to the inside and whip stitched in place. You can also see the ribbon tie on the right as well as a little bit of the pocket opening.

Set inside of the waistbands are long ties (in this case, made of ivory polyester ribbon because it was on hand). The back ties are long enough to tie around the front of the body. Then the front ties warp around the back and are long enough to tie in front. (You can see how this works in this past post about the petticoat I wear under my Versailles sacque.)

The bottom of the skirt has a ½” hand sewn whip stitched hem, which you can see in the image below. It is leveled to sit over 1770s panniers (which you can read about in this past post).

And that’s basically it! This petticoat qualifies for the Historical Sew Monthly Challenge #12 That’s A Wrap:

Make an accessory or garment that is worn by wrapping it around the body.

Just the facts:

Fabric/Materials: Approximately 1.25 yards of yellow jacquard silk and 2 yards of cream cotton.

Pattern: I referenced my first petticoat, which referenced Katherine’s 18th Century Petticoat Tutorial and The Standard 18th Century Petticoat Tutorial at A Fashionable Frolick. The nice thing about Katherine’s tutorial is that it’s adjusted for a petticoat to go over pocket hoops, while the great thing about the tutorial at A Fashionable Frolick is that it has tons of detailed construction information like which stitches to use. Both tutorials are clear and very helpful.

Year: c. 1775.

Notions: Approximately 3 yards of ¼” ivory polyester ribbon and thread.

How historically accurate is it?: 90%. All of the visible bits are hand sewn. The construction methods are accurate, though cotton is not the most likely fiber content as it was expensive in the 18th century.

Hours to complete: I didn’t keep track (a nice change from some of my projects). My guess is about 5 hours for machine sewing non-visible areas and hand finishing.

First worn: October 5, 2024.

Total cost: Approximately $30 (the cotton was $4/yard, the silk was $17/yard, and the ribbon was free).