1797 Watermelon Sleeveless Bodice, Part III: Finished Garment

I’ve spent the last two posts sharing the details of inspiration, patterning, and making a 1797 sleeveless bodice. Now it’s time for photos!

The new bodice is named for the vibrant colors I chose for it. Lime green! And pink! Ok, watermelons are a deeper shade of green, generally speaking, but the green and pink idea generally makes sense!

I enjoyed the minute details as I created this garment. In the photo below, the gathers of the peplum at the center back and along the sides are visible.

The back of the bodice rises up a bit, just as the dress underneath does. That is visible at a bit more of a distance.

I wore the new bodice with my 1794 Windowpane Ruffled Dress and 1790s Organza Cap With Gold Stripe Trimming.

It was all very grand. Fluffy, elegant, and extremely fun to wear!

1797 Watermelon Sleeveless Bodice, Part II: Patterning & Construction

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

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!

1794 Windowpane Ruffled Dress Outing

Back in October 2024, I posted about the inspiration and construction details of a freshly completed 1794 dress (you can view that past post here). At the time, I promised myself that I would figure out how to get my hair to look vaguely 1790s and find a fun opportunity to wear the dress and get photos!

Every few months after finishing the dress, I found the inspiration needed for a trial to figure out how to get my small-diameter-curly hair to look remotely like the billowing-larger-scale curls found in 1790s fashion plates. Of course, one could wear a wig… but I really enjoy using my own hair for these things! It’s a fun challenge, I think.

My first trial attempt was unsuccessful in the overall look, but I learned that curling iron curls didn’t look so far off as to be implausible. My second trial attempt taught me that the 1790s organza cap I made (finished even earlier, in 2023, and which you can read all about here, in a past post) that was intended for this outfit looked silly when perched directly on my head. It really, really needed volume so it appeared to be floating on my hair. Enter, a giant bun form. (The same bun form, in fact, that makes up the biggest part of my hair support for giant 1770s hair in this past post.)

See? The cap isn’t really on my head at all. It’s just floating on my hair. Aside from curling all of my hair, the only other part of creating this hairstyle was to artfully pin the curls up to make them elegantly descend from the cap on every side.

With this dress, I wore the foundations of the 1790s ensemble I’ve been putting together for the last few years. This included my entirely hand sewn c. 1785 Stays of Success and 1790s Petticoat & Bum Pad. Also finished in 2023 and 2024, this was the first real outing for the stays, which you can read all about in this past post, and for the petticoat and bum pad, which you can read all about in this past post.

The whole ensembles is super comfortable! The stays are, in fact, a success! And the layers, with their generously gathered skirts, are full of movement. The ruffles add a bit of fun. And the front closures on the petticoat and dress are definitely easy to use!

The only difficulty of wearing this dress came from the hem that just brushes the ground. Wearing it outside meant that it collected twigs, pine needs, and leaves that I was constantly removing. Not to mention the fact that the layers attracted multiple stinging bee-like creatures to get stuck between them! Ack! Luckily, kind people around me helped me separate the layers enough to let the winged creatures free, and not a single person was stung! Whew!

Perhaps this ensemble is better suited to a marble-floored walkway, but… it was breezy, and cool, and elegant to wear outside (when one ignored the bits of nature stuck in the hem ruffle!).

A Mysterious Domino, Part I: Background & Research

Earlier this year, The Footwork and Frolick Society hosted an early 19th century themed Masquerade Ball. I enjoy fancy dress themes, and so the idea of a masquerade (which takes the idea of a costume to another level by adding a mask) seemed like a lot of fun. But what was I to do to about a costume?

The dress: I had already decided that I wanted to wear an oldie-but-goodie dress to the ball — my ivory 1819 ruffle dress, finished in 2012 (and resized at some point, though I don’t seem to have a post about that on the blog).

The mask: I don’t really enjoy wearing masks (unless they are on a stick, like this, but that’s not good for a ball when you need your hands!). I find that masks irritate my face, but at some point I did buy a black lace mask for a fantasy masquerade that is very malleable and irritates me less. So I knew that I wanted to incorporate that mask into my outfit.

The costume: I wasn’t sure… my creative problem was to figure out what kind of costume would unite an ivory dress and a black mask!

I liked the idea of choosing something historically plausible and I know that themes like flowers, seasons, and historical periods were all popular for Fancy Dress costumes (and therefore, I figured, for masquerades), but I couldn’t think of a good theme that made sense with my color choices.

So I started doing some research, and came across the idea of a domino. Not a numbered playing piece from a game… but a mysterious, historical domino!

What Is A Domino?

What is that, then? A mysterious, historical domino?

A domino is traditionally a voluminous black robe-like hooded cape worn with a black half mask as a disguise during Venetian Carnival. Dominos were popular during the 18th century at masquerades and it seems that hooded capes in this century were sometimes just generally called dominos (such as this one, perhaps, at the Metropolitan Museum of Art). By the 19th century, dominos were occasionally seen at masquerades, and even less often at fancy dress events (a costume party without masks).

Examples Of Dominos

Below is an example of an 18th century domino in the collection of the Victoria and Albert museum. In this case, the idea has been reimagined in pink, rather than the usual black. The museum gives this information regarding a date: 1765 – 1770 (sewing), ca. 1775 (altered) (accession number T.195-1968).

Below is another example, from the late 18th or early 19th century, also pink. This domino still shows evidence of 18th century construction styles — particularly the large gathered hood and what appear to be rectangle shaped sleeves. The extant example below is from Augusta Auctions. They labeled it as a Two Piece Shot Silk Domino, c.1800.

Below is an example of a mid-19th century take on a domino. This is a costume idea for a masked ball (or masquerade). This plate is from Thomas Hailes Lacy’s “Female Costumes Historical, National and Dramatic in 200 Plates,” London, 1865 (from Getty Images).

Susan de Guardiola has collected later 19th century descriptions of dominos that are available here, as well.

Though less common, dominos were still in use for masquerades even in the early 20th century. While looking for other unrelated research, I came across a mention of them from January 1920, when the accomplished fashion designer Erté wrote in a letter he was asked to write from Monte Carlo to the editor of Harper’s Bazar:

This winter will mark the first organized effort at gaiety since the dark night of war… Already we are planning to revive the masked ball in all its mad gaiety…

The domino–aha! … In Venice until the fall of the Republic, it was commonly worn in the streets. There reigned in the enchanted city at this decadent epoch a strange corruption of manners, and the mask was a necessity. At every entrance hung the black domino. Rich and poor alike donned it, in order that they might sally forth enveloped in anonymity…

“But,” argue some, “the domino gives to the fête an air of mystery.” I reply, “Then one may attain this illusion by means of a domino of distinguished cut, a domino which shall not make one’s figure look like a shapeless bundle.”

(From Designs By Erté: Fashion Drawings & Illustrations From ‘Harper’s Bazar’ Including 8 Covers In Full Color By Stella Blum)

I think this is a great place to pause. I’ll continue sharing in my next post, which will focus on how I whipped up a quick domino and what it looked like when worn!

Two Sacques At ‘The Salon at Palais-Royal’

I am finally ready to share a full set of photos of the new Yellow Sacque and its friend, my older Versailles sacque (all of the construction details for these dresses can be found by clicking the links)! The two dresses had a joyful outing together at an event last year. This post is going to share about the event itself as well as photos and recollections.

Below, a photo of the Versailles Sacque and new Yellow Sacque next to each other!

Photo courtesy of Aleks Vu

About The Event

In October 2024, I had the great joy of attending the ‘Salon at Palais-Royal: An 18th-Century Chevalier Experience’ weekend hosted by Costumers of Color. The program included educational lectures, a violin concert, historical activity discussions and demonstrations, dancing, and more, with the goal of providing an inclusive environment for people of color both in terms of attendance and in terms of the educational theme of the event.

It was a success! Costumers of Color shared on the page for the event that “over 40 of the 140 attendees were POC (people of color).” That’s pretty amazing, and special! (If you go to the linked page, you can see group photos, one of which is of all the people at the event who identify as people of color.) I enjoyed that aspect of the event, as well as the educational theme that centered Joseph Bologne, Chevalier de Saint Georges, an 18th century Black “scholar, a fencer, a virtuoso violinist and a famous and sought-after composer.” (This quote is from the Costumers of Color blog post about Joseph Bologne. Please go give it a read if you would like to learn more! Bologne’s achievements are impressive!) In addition to these elements, I also enjoyed the combination of learning and participating that was incorporated into the weekend.

What Was Worn

For the formal evening part of the event, I chose to wear my Versailles Sacque (made and last worn in 2016, which I posted about here)! For this wearing, I updated the ensemble with a lace tucker around the neckline of the dress. This small new accessory helps complete the full look. It took a little bit of referencing my old blog posts to reconstruct my hair form and remind myself what accessories to wear, but I was successful. I was very grateful to myself for documenting things so well!

I also had the pleasure of seeing the new Yellow Sacque and all of the new accessories I’ve been making being elegantly worn by a friend!

Below, showing off both the front and back of the sacque (or Robe à la Française) style of dress.

Photo courtesy of Aleks Vu

More Photos

I was so pleased that my American Duchess Kensingtons were still in good shape after the immense amount of rain they endured in 2016. It was really exciting to break them out again with this dress! I’m still chuffed with the metallic lace I added. For Versailles, more bling was the thing! And in this photo, you can see how the light turquoise paint color picks up on the hints of turquoise in the dress fabric!

One of the things that I’d struggled to capture in photos for the Versailles dress’s first wearing was the changeable nature of the silk fabric. It is a ‘shot’ fabric, meaning that it uses two different colors woven in opposite directions: a vibrant turquoise and a deep red. This means that fabric appears to be both colors, or a mixture that looks a bit purple, depending on how the light hits it.

Most of my photos from the first wearing of the dress show the purple color, but the lighting at this event captured the many colors of the fabric much more clearly! Below is one example. Most of the dress appears in the red tone, but the shadows of the dress in the back look like the green color.

As I mentioned earlier, I had to reconstruct my hair style for this wearing. In 2016, I cobbled together a large form from many hair supports on hand (you can read about that in this past post). After that event, I deconstructed the large form in order to be able to use the individual parts again. So for this, re-forming the large form was necessary.

Below, you can see the final result of the style. This is the same style I created in 2016. (You can read more about it in this past post.)

My friend wearing the Yellow Sacque also had a fabulously large hairstyle! Her style uses elements from the book The American Duchess Guide To 18th Century Beauty, including the ‘Ski Slope Hair Cushion’ and ‘1770s Pouf’ on pages 119 and 127. She also created her own buckles (those pre-made rolls of hair on the sides). And I had fun helping her place them the day of. It was fun to make two styles that are similar, but different in shape and details!

Recollections

I had a fantastic time traveling with friends to this event. We all enjoyed the content of the weekend as well as the opportunity to make or refresh our clothing and accessories.

In fact, we had such a lovely time we felt the need to take a break in the ladies dressing room! How could we not, with such an elegant day bed and foot stool to lounge on?

It was also a special experience to have the opportunity to meet other bloggers and costumers I don’t often (or ever) get to see in person! We might exchange comments and be inspired by each other’s creations, but to meet people and have a conversation is extra wonderful. I’m so grateful that Cindy, of Cation Designs (who is in the photo with me, below), took the time to chat with me and express her appreciation for how this blog has made costuming feel approachable for her!

After a lovely evening, it was time to head out. It wasn’t particularly warm outside, so an extra layer was much appreciated!

But a pause was necessary… I love my silly moose poses! Thanks for enjoying this outing with me!

The New Yellow Sacque!

It’s time to share photos of the finished c. 1770 yellow sacque I’ve been posting about for the last year or so! I’m not going to include too much introduction, as I’ve been hinting at and posting about this dress for ages. If you would like more background on this dress, check out the link to past posts at the end of next paragraph.

Without further ado, here is a full length photo of the dress, with all the accessories I’ve been slowly posting about: the panniers, engageants, stomacher, tucker, etc. If you want to know more about these elements or the construction of this dress itself, you will find lots of details and photos in this series of past posts.

This next wonderful view artistically shows off both the front and side view of the dress, including the dramatic back pleats that cascade down from the shoulders. This is a defining feature of this style of dress!

And here is a clearer view of the front of the dress, with the sparkly embroidered-looking stomacher more clearly visible. (Plus another fun view of the pleats in the back, too!)

I’m so pleased with how it turned out! The color is just as vibrant as I hoped, the gold pattern woven into the yellow adds excitement without needing additional trim just as I hoped, the accessories help complete the outfit in a wonderful way, I’m very happy with the shape and effect of the stomacher, and I’m very pleased with the pattern alterations and fitting tweaks I made so that this dress would fit just right. This was a fun and rewarding project!

The New Yellow Sacque: Construction Details

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)

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)

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.