Ca. 1860 Corset Intense Details

This is a follow-up post to my last post: ca. 1860 Corset For Me! (HSF #4)That post has a short background on my reasons for building the corset, but it doesn’t mention other details, so that’s what this post is for!

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My new ca. 1860 corset.

So let’s start with more background, since this post is all about intense amounts of details! We’ll start with the pattern I made for this corset: you’ll notice it has bust and hip gores as well as that curved piece on each side of the front. The bust gores aren’t so unusual for a modern 1860s corset recreation, but I don’t see too many corsets made (and certainly not many corset patterns) with hip gores and I’m not sure I’ve ever seen anyone reproduce an 1860s corset with that curved piece in front. I found these details intriguing and wanted to make this style for two reasons: 1, because it’s a style I haven’t seen recreated, but which I have multiple examples of in my research, and 2, because it seemed like it would fit into a new thought I absorbed a few months ago.

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1865-1867 corset, The Met

First, a discussion about the style. It seems like a lot of modern ca. 1860s corsets are cut with vertical seams that run from top to bottom of the corset to create shaping, sometimes with the addition of bust gores. (The corset on the right is an example of one from the 1860s that uses this style of seaming to create shape.) These corsets are cut with shaping in the seams to create space for the bust and hips, but an alternative to this is to use bust and hip gores to achieve shape for the body. The interesting thing is that hip gores do not seem to be very commonly used in historic corsets made by modern people, despite their use in historic clothing. I attribute this to the fact that shaped seams are easier to execute than inserting gores of any type, but especially gores that are not in a seam (like the gores in my corset). Also, I would think that pattern companies have an easier time grading patterns using the shaped seams, because the gores (particularly hip gores) really need a lot more individual adjustment and fiddling on a body than shaped seams do.

Second, about this new thought that I absorbed. While reading Merja’s most recent blog posts about corset construction, I was rather surprised by a simple statement that makes so much sense but which I haven’t necessarily followed in corset making  in the past (here are Merja’s gusseted 1870s corset, which has the sentence which mentions this magical new thought, as well as her 1880s purple corset and 1860s white corset with seaming like the Met corset, above, which exhibit the thought without it being explicitly stated). Essentially, she says that she always makes adequate space in the corset for bust and hips, so that the corset is only constraining her waist. Duh! A related thought is that when you tighten your corset you displace some bits to your bust and hips, so your corset really does need adequate room there to accommodate the normal and the extra. That makes so much sense and sounds so much more comfortable than having a corset that digs into your hips or pushes your bust around uncomfortably. I made the goal to take this approach for the new corset and all future corsets! and this new corset was my first attempt at really following this sound piece of information.

So given that the style I set out to make is one that I haven’t ever seen a pattern for, where did I get mine? Well, it’s loosely based off of one in Corsets and Crinolines by Norah Waugh (the pattern is ca. 1873, pg. 80). I say loosely, because I started there, but then began combining pieces and changing the shape of them to suit my measurements and the seam placement that I wanted (most importantly the hip gore and that curved front piece). Interestingly, Waugh notes on a different corset pattern (ca. 1860, pg. 78) that the 1860s style of corset without bust or hip gores (more like what I seem to see in modern made ca. 1860 corsets like the one from the Met at the top of this post) was a style preferred in France. The English preferred the style of corset I am making with gores. (Merja’s white 1860s corset I mentioned in the pervious paragraph uses this French corset pattern in Waugh, if you’d like to see what it looks like made up.)

I wound up making two mockups to get the pattern the way I wanted it even after adjusting the pattern from the beginning (and still made a few alterations before cutting out my real fabric). The original pattern in the book had a waist that was much too small and a bust that was a little large relative to my measurements. Despite my changes, the first mockup was too short waisted, needed bigger and longer bust gores, smaller hip gores (I had overestimated how much ease I needed there), and a little bigger waist. The second mockup was still a little short (I added another ½” to the top), the hip gores were still just slightly too big, and the lacing gap between the back pieces was wider than I wanted it to be by about 3″. Ugh! I actually determined that last fact after cutting out and sewing up my actual fabric. Turns out my shoulder blade area is bigger than I thought. I had an inner struggle about if I wanted to take out the small stitch size flat felled seam to insert a piece or if I wanted to just let it go. Adding a piece won in the end, because I figured that I was spending so much time on the corset that I really wanted to be pleased with it and not have nagging doubts for the next number of years until making a replacement. (The piece I added is between the front and back pieces. You can see it easily in the first picture in this post. It’s a v shaped piece that extends from top to bottom.) Adding the piece actually wasn’t so bad, despite all my inner complaining and I’m very pleased I did it, because I am happy with the result.

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1864 corset, The Victoria and Albert Museum.

That’s all the aspects of choosing the pattern and executing it. Now I can move on to my inspiration for creating it. This blue corset at the V and A is the most thoroughly photographed piece of inspiration (click through, there are lots of different angles of the corset, and close up pictures!). As you can see, the blue corset has bust gores, that curved front piece, (and if you look at the pictures of the back…) hip gores, as well as useful close up construction photos showing the flossing, how the busk is sewn in, how the binding is sewn on, etc. You can also see great detail for things like how to sew the points of the bust darts and the tops of the hip gores: they are overcast near the tips of the bust gores and tops of the hip gores before being machine sewn with topstitching to the binding. I used this method in my corset, sewing the overcasting by hand. I found that it was very useful on the bust gores (since mine are set into a slit in the fabric, not a seam) because the amount of seam allowance near the points is negligible (like, less than ⅛”) and that would have been extremely frustrating to try and machine sew! Also, the overcasting kept the edges from fraying as I was working with them. It also adds an extra measure of stability and sturdiness to those areas.

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1839-1841 corset, The Met.

Other very useful images to me were this orange 1860s corset front and side views (with generally similar lines as the blue V and A one) and this 1862 Godey’s image of a corset (with very similar lines as the blue V and A one). (As a side note: Does anyone know what collection houses the orange corset? I’ve only been able to find images, but no real source.) These corsets provide a nice end date range for my corset pattern, because in the 1870s the corset begins to change shape. But to determine a good start date for my corset I had to look elsewhere. The Met has a corset dated 1839-1841 with similar hip gores and the front curved piece (great zoomable pictures including an interior view, click through the image!), but it does not have separate bust gores (they are cut in one with the front pieces as is usual for 1840s corsets) and it does not have a front opening busk (those weren’t in general use until 1849). The 1839-41 corset is more curvy than the 1860s ones, as you would expect from an 1840s corset, but it still looks like a forerunner to me! Waugh has an 1844 corset pattern (pg. 77) that has similar lines to the 1839-41 Met one, with bust gores but without hip gores or the curved front piece. These 1840s corsets are useful for determining the start point of my date range, which seems to safely be the 1850s. Thus, my corset is dated ca. 1860, which is just a shorter way of saying 1850-1870. That makes sense looking at the silhouette of the dresses from these decades, as well, since neither the 1850s or 1860s require the curvy shape of 1840s or 1870s corsets.

EDIT: The orange corset mentioned above is in the collection of the Manchester Art Gallery via this link.

I used all of these different images to look for construction details to use in my corset. Specific things I was looking for include: stitch size, width of the binding, method of sewing the binding, placement of bones, design of flossing, seam placement, method of setting bust and hip gores, location of topstitching, placement of eyelets down the back, finishing of the interior of the corset, and length of the busk. Some of these things can be determined by looking at the extant corsets I’ve shared in this post, but others required other helpful research. Specifically, the gusset construction method I used came from this image that Merja shared in her 1870s corset post. It’s from 1872, but is still relevant for my corset, because if you look at the blue and orange corset pictures you will see it used on the overcasting at the bust and hip gores. This image, from 1868, shows similar methods as well (and has a selection of mostly French and a few English style corsets if you’d like to see more examples of those).

And now, here are the close up construction details of my corset that I promised.

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An interior view of my corset. It’s important to me that the inside of garments is as nicely finished as the outside, as you can see. It’s a little hard to see, but the grommets near the waist are set closer together than the ones a the top and bottom.
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Details: Hand sewn overcast stitches at the bast of the bust gore and machine top stitching above that. Machine sewn button holes for the busk hooks (I’ve found this method to be much sturdier than leaving a gap in a seam on the edge).
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Details: The busk is top stitched around the top curve to keep it from moving. There is flossing at the top of the boning channels (every boning channel is flossed at the top and bottom). Machine sewn top stitched binding.
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Details: The top hook of my busk is a few inches below the top of the corset, so I added a hook and thread loop at the top to keep it closed. I used coutil cut on the straight of grain for my boning channels: the edges are pressed under and then they are topstitched into place and into the proper number of channels (keeps the inside tidy and doesn’t require extra notions!). The seam allowance of my bust gores is turned under and flat felled by hand with a whip stitch that only catches the coutil. The curved front piece is flat felled by machine.
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Years of use have caused my busk to have a bend in it at my waist line. See how it curves up from the table in the middle? Impressive, really, that my body can permanently change the shape of metal.

I’m hoping to get pictures of the corset on me this weekend at its first ever wearing. Hopefully I’ll be able to share those in the near future!

Ca. 1860 Corset For ME! (HSF #4)

Unfortunately, I’m a few days late completing my project for the HSF Challenge #4: Under It All. I tried really hard on this one and was definitely motivated to keep working consistently by the fact that I wanted to get it done for the HSF challenge. I was held up by a severe cold that took me out for about a week and other dealing with life things. So while I’m late, I’m super glad and excited to be done with this project (especially because the last two days have included a lot of flossing, and my fingers/hand muscles are so done with that for awhile)!

The last ca. 1860 corset I built for myself was made in 2006 or 2007 (you can see it in this post). It’s been worn more times than I can count and has stood up to the test of time and tension well, especially considering it was the first corset I ever made! But the time has come for a new corset for this period–one that is made to fit me using all the skills in pattern making and construction that I’ve gained over the last 7 or 8 years.

I realized while working on this corset that aside from building my first corset to fit me in 2006 or 2007, the only other stays or corsets I wear with my historic clothes that were made to fit me are my 18th century stays, my short Regency stays, and my c. 1825 long stays. I wear other corsets from 1895 (hm, I don’t think there are pictures of this on the blog), 1903, and 1913 but none of them were constructed to fit me (though I did construct them beautifully!). I’ve made them work and they sort of fit me, but all of them have problems because they were made to fit other people: a busk that’s too long, being a little small, especially in the hips, or being too big and needing a tuck. So it occurred to me that I should probably invest in making a few more corsets made to my measurements for the Victorian and Edwardian periods. Sounds obvious, but it was a revelation to me when I sat down and thought about it!

So that’s what this project is: a ca. 1860 corset made to fit me!

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Hard to see the details in this picture, I know. There will be detail shots and lots of commentary in an upcoming post!

I have lots of other thoughts and inspiration to share with regard to this project, but I expect it to be lengthy, so I’ll be writing it up in a separate post. Plus, I want to post about my completion of the challenge as soon as possible. So for now, the very much condensed details.

Fabric: 1/2 yd ish of white herringbone cotton coutil and ½ yds ish of slightly slubby pale pink silk satin.

Pattern: Created by me, though I began with a corset pattern in Norah Waugh’s Corsets and Crinolines and made lots of changes to it.

Year: c. 1860.

Notions: Metal boning, metal grommets, a recycled metal busk from my old ca. 1860 corset, regular weight ivory thread, and heavy weight ivory thread for flossing.

How historically accurate?: Pretty darn accurate, I’d say. I wanted to create a corset using the seam lines found in extant garments, but which don’t seem to be much recreated. I used construction methods that are accurate as far as I know. Let’s say 90% because you can’t ever quite make it to 100% if it’s modern, can you?

Hours to complete: A lot. I didn’t keep track, but I’ve been working on this for  at least 2 or 3 weeks, and some of those days have been a full day’s work on the corset, not just evenings.

First worn: Has not been worn yet, but will be worn to a ball in March.

Total cost: Free (all stash materials)!

HSF #26: Curtain Along Jacket, Finally!

The theme of the final HSF challenge of 2013 is “Celebrate”:

Make something that is celebration worthy, make something that celebrates the new skills you have learned this year, or just make something simple that celebrates the fact that you survived HSF ’13!

This challenge gave me the inspiration to finally finish my Mineral Felicite jacket!

Here’s the story… I bought the fabric over a year ago, but didn’t really start thinking about the project until this summer. I made a mock-up of my chosen 1760s pattern and thought I’d sorted out the fitting issues, but after I’d cut and sewn the real fabric I had many more unexpected problems! I was discouraged, but recieved some really wonderful opinions about what I should do to proceed from you lovely readers. I decided to go with a stomacher front jacket with self fabric pleated trim around the neckline/front opening and around the cuffs on the sleeves, like this jacket at the Met. Then, back in September, the HSF inspired me to make a stomacher to match my jacket for challenge #19. After that, my jacket languished, because I really wasn’t very excited about finishing the sewing for the other decisions I’d made and the alterations that needed to be done to make the jacket the way I wanted it. But I really wanted to finish the jacket in this calendar year. And that brings us to the present, with the jacket finally completed. Yay! I am SO ready to celebrate that this jacket is finally done!!!

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Front. The pleated trim easily hides the pins used to attach the stomacher!
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Back. It’s wrinkly and without a waist on the hanger. You’ll just have to believe that it looks better on a body!

The facts:

Fabric: Almost 2 yds Waverly Mineral Felicite printed cotton and 1yd (I think) peach linen

Pattern: Heavily altered, but I started with the 1760-1790 jacket pattern in Janet Arnold.

Year: Well… 1760s is what I was aiming for in the beginning.

Notions: Thread and cane boning.

How historically accurate?: 60%. This definitely falls in the historic costume category of my wardrobe. The Waverly fabric is in the spirit of the 18th century, but not accurate, though the linen is accurate as are the methods of construction. The trim is based on extant garments but not specifically reproduced. The jacket is 100% hand sewn.

Hours to complete: So many! With all the problems and alterations and re-sewing I completely lost count.

First worn: Has not been worn yet.

Total cost: $30 maybe? I don’t remember exactly what I paid for the fabrics.

Hopefully, I’ll get some more pieces of an 18th century ensemble done at some point and get pictures of the jacket on me. Don’t hold your breath, though, it could be awhile!

HSF #25: Spat-Boots, Or Gaiters

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Spat-boots! WIth my 1917 ensemble.

It’s time for the details about my entry for HSF challenge #25: One Metre. I prefer saying I’m wearing “spat-boots” though the actual items I’m really wearing are shoes and “gaiters.” Spat-boots has more of a ring to it, I think.

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Close up of my spat-boot look.

The gaiters very effectively turn my sort-of-1910s-but-more-1920s American Duchess Gibsons into very 19-teens spat-boots! If you look at the first black and white image of suffragists in this previous post you can clearly see some similar spat-boot styles. And if you look at the images on my Sewing Project: 1917 Blouse and Accessories Pinterest board you can see multiple examples of the spat-boot style. Some boots, like these from 1917 at the Met, were made in two different colors of leather. That’s the look I was trying to imitate, except that I was doing it with a separate garment rather than as a part of my shoe. The Met actually has quite a number of early 20th century gaiters, made out of leather and cotton. If you’d like to see these examples, I’ve pinned many of them to my Early 20th Century Accessories Pinterest board.

The facts, you ask?

Fabric: Scraps of heavy unbleached cotton.

Pattern: Created by me.

Year: 1917.

Notions: Thread, black elastic, cotton twill tape in various widths, and plastic buttons.

How historically accurate?: 90%. The look is right but the materials are a mix and match of right and modern.

Hours to complete: 6-8? Took a few fittings to get them ready to sew. Then finishing and sewing on buttons took awhile.

First worn: At a Thanksgiving event in Plymouth.

Total cost: None. The fabric was left over from a grad school mock up and the notions were all from my stash. (See that odd marking in the middle of the center piece? That’s blue sharpie that soaked onto this part of the fabric from notes I wrote on the mock up… There was a lot of blue sharpie, and I couldn’t cut around it and still have enough fabric. Doesn’t show on the outside though!)

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Here’s an inside view of one of the gaiters. You can see that I’ve used three different kinds of twill tape to bind the seams and the edges. All of the sewing was done by machine except sewing on the buttons.

There are a few things that I would change consider changing if I made these again in some other reality. #1: Having my buttons spaced closer together, as the extant gaiters and boots do. But in this case I only had a limited number of buttons to work with! #2: Potentially putting a strap with a buckle to go under the foot rather than elastic, since the buckle method is what extant gaiters have. But the elastic worked so well and you really couldn’t see it… so I probably wouldn’t actually change this, especially since I don’t have the right sort of buckles in my stash. #3: Making the back part that comes down over my heel longer. I was aiming for a nice swoop up from the part held down by the elastic, but the back of the gaiters kept popping up over the edge of my shoes, which was a little uncomfortable. I spent a lot of time during the day I wore these pulling the back of the gaiters down.

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Like a flamengo, I’m standing on one leg and pulling down the back of my gaiter, which had popped up over the back of my shoe.
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Overall, I’m super pleased. These were quite successful. You should try some yourself!
Product links in this post contain an affiliate code, which provides a small benefit to my shoe fund. This does not affect my impressions and reviews of this product.

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1950s Adventures Part III: On A Roll

After eating brunch at a 1950s themed dinerstopping along the side of the road to take lovely autumn color pictures, and spending some time at a thrift store before the roller rink opened, we finally headed out to go roller skating! I had been jokingly warned that we were likely to be at the roller rink with a whole lot of 8 year olds and the warning was pretty accurate. There were a few adult couples on dates and a few by themselves, but mostly there were a ton of 5-13 year olds and their adult chaperones. It was a Saturday afternoon, after all, so it was to be expected that there would be a lot of birthday parties… It didn’t bother us, though, we’re used to being unique. And lots of the girls called out that they liked our dresses as we skated by. Perhaps one day they’ll be inspired to make or wear historic clothing!

Some of us had been more used to roller blading, but in the spirit of trying to be 1950s-ish, we all rented roller skates. Granted, the roller rink and the skates are obviously modern and not 50s, as you’ll see, but we had so much fun it didn’t matter at all!

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Putting on skates under a black light.
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Things started off a little shaky for some of us.
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But we were there to support each other.
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In fact, I almost fell over before I even made it onto the rink… But I managed to keep my balance, and here I am, successfully skating!
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Our confidence rose pretty quickly, and soon we were all making it around the rink.
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We were even managing to be graceful sometimes.
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And possibly even in sync…
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I did still lose my balance sometimes and make crazy faces…
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But they were balanced out by the successful moments.
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Look, here’s another successful moment!
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On a roll!
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This picture amuses me, because we might be dancing, or we might just be loosing our balance…
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Group shot (with fun lights!).
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Another group shot…
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You might remember our “raise the roof Charleston”… We just like to throw in raising the roof any chance we get, and this was a perfect opportunity.
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It almost looks intentional that we’re all in a line!
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Full circle. Returning my skates under the black light.

Fun, right? We really enjoyed ourselves and no one actually fell! But the day wasn’t over… we still had a Regency ball to run/attend that night. I’ve got pictures of that coming soon. It sure is a transformation from 1950s!

HSF #20: Finally Finished 1822 Walking Dress

…It’s only been a year! Or pretty close to a year. I posted an overview of my early 1820s project last November. The project included a petticoat, 1824 ball gown, 1822 walking dress, muff, tippet, bonnet, and chemisette. Some of these things are still in the UFO pile or on the to do list, but I’m super pleased that this post is about the completion of the 1822 walking dress!

The image below is my inspiration for the now complete walking dress. I wore it last December to go caroling outside before Fezziwig’s Ball, but at that point my time had run out and though the construction was complete there was no trim. Below the image of my inspiration is an image of the walking dress as it looked last December with no trim. And below that is an image of the now completed walking dress with trim! It certainly fits me better than the hanger, but you’ll have to wait a few months to see it on me.

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Promenade Dress. Ackerman’s Repository. December 1822.
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December 2012. Unfinished early 1820s ensemble.
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Yay! All the trim is on!

Before I share some close ups of the trim and construction, let me share the facts:

Fabric: 4-5 yds of dark pink wool, 4-5 yds of ivory super soft and thick cotton twill, 1/2 yd-ish of lavender polyester velvet, 1/2 yd-ish of lavender silk shantung,  and a bit of canvas for the collar.

Pattern: Adapted from my 1822 green ball gown pattern, I think. It’s pretty much exactly the same except that it has a higher back, collar, and sleeves. The ball gown pattern is based off of a pattern in Janet Arnold.

Year: 1822.

Notions: Pink and lavender thread, polyester batting in the hem, and hooks for the waist.

How historically accurate?: Very, having used modern materials and a few very nice looking modern fabrics . The pattern is from Janet Arnold, so you know it is good on accuracy and the trim scale and pattern is taken from a fashion plate from 1822. As a historic costume I give it 98%.

Hours to complete: Oh goodness… I’m sure the main construction took at least 40 hours and the trim took probably 50ish hours to cut, press, and hand sew. I didn’t keep track at all on this project.

First worn: To Fezziwig’s Ball in December 2012, though with trim it will debut at Fezziwig’s Ball in December 2013!

Total cost: $40 perhaps?

Ok, now for the trim and construction shots.

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Top of the sleeve. First I had to sew the bias into a tube so the raw edges would be finished and the bias could “float” without having to be sewn down all along the edges. Then I tacked the bias tubes in a zig zag then crossed and tied other zig zags to get the finished pattern.
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The front. The pattern looks very much like an oak leaf to me. The bias is stitched in a tube with the raw edges showing on the back, then the edges are stitched down all around to create the pattern.
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The sleeve. The bias is stitched on the same way as it is on the front. The motifs are sewn on the front of the arm rather than the outside.

I actually had forgotten that I’d taken these construction shots. In fact, I had totally forgotten the method I had used to construct my sleeves until I saw the picture again! These pictures where the wool looks more pink than maroon show the color best. It’s really much more vibrant, and much less brownish, than some of the pictures make it look.

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The canvas pad stitched into the collar before sewing the pieces together.
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The top of the sleeve before the gathered sleeve top was sewn on. I didn’t want to waste wool where it wouldn’t be seen, so it stops part way up the lining, then the gathered cap is sewn on and hides the raw edge of the wool.
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The lining is stab stitched to the wool at the cuff.

And just in case you want to read more about my entire project from the early 1820s, here’s a link to that category of entries on my blog. As I continue to finish up other bits and pieces I’ll keep adding them to that category, and it’s neat because the category filters only those posts so there’s a nice continuity.

HSF #19: Mineral Felicite Stomacher

First, I want to say “Thank you!” to all of you who provided me with your thoughts and insights about my Curtain Along troubles. I took all of the things that you mentioned and reconsidered my jacket, coming at last to the conclusion that a stomacher would solve a lot of my problems. Of course then I had to decide if I wanted my jacket to lace over or pin to the stomacher and how I wanted to trim the new design (ribbon or self trim)… for now I’ll leave you in suspense on those two points, because the point of this post is to share my completion of the stomacher, as it fits into the HSF Challenge #19: Wood, Metal, Bone.

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Just the facts:

Fabric: A bit of left over Mineral Felicite print from the jacket (it sure is a good thing I had extra!), small bits of leftover peach linen from the jacket lining, and a bit of leftover white linen from another project for the interlining.

Pattern: Made by me and referencing Costume Close-Up.

Year: 1760s-ish.

Notions: Thread and cane.

How historically accurate?: 90%. Accurate fiber contents, though the print of my Mineral Felicite isn’t perfectly accurate. I may not have used the exact stitches that an 18th century garment would have. Also, I feel like I’ve seen stomachers that are boned, but when I was looking for this project I couldn’t find any of them. So I might have made that up. But it will make my stomacher lay so much smoother than without boning, so it’s worth it.

Hours to complete: 6.

First worn: Has not been worn yet.

Total cost: Free since everything was from left overs.

Ok, now here’s the amusing part. As I mentioned in my last post about the jacket, I have only small scraps of the lining linen left. I could have backed my stomacher with a non matching linen all in one piece… but I decided to piece together my matching scraps for the back. It’s a little crazy looking, but it will match the sleeves and amuse me. Actually, I wouldn’t have had enough scraps if I hadn’t reused some of the bits I cut off from the front when changing the line to fit over a stomacher…

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See what I mean? It’s a bit crazy. Oh well. You can see the three bones that run vertically up up the middle of the stomacher. Anyway, work on the jacket has now been put on hold so I can complete some of the other upcoming HSF challenges, but I hope to get back to it soon.

1953 Dot Dress

It’s been months since I bought the fabric for this dress (I actually had to look back to see when I purchased the fabric: it was February). I bought it rather on a whim, with the goal of expanding the number of patterned dresses in my historic wardrobe. Well, success! My 1953 dot dress is complete!

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Yay!
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And the back.

I think it looks more flattering on me than it does on Squishy, but the opportunity I’m hoping to use to wear it and take pictures has been postponed due to the busy lives of my friends. We’ve got a grand plan involving roller skating, a 50s diner, and ice cream. All of those things just scream for pictures!

But for now, the facts (a la the HSF, though unfortunately the cutoff for the HSF is 1937, so this doesn’t qualify!):

Fabric: The dress is constructed from about 3 yds of lightweight cotton lawn printed with dots and lined with some of my white striped $1 a yard cotton fabric. It’s a perfect pairing, because it creates opacity but keeps the lightweight feel of the lawn.

Pattern: The skirt pattern is from a Vogue pattern I bought at Vintage In Vogue last year. The bodice pattern is a simple darted bodice pattern I draped for myself with the neckline adjusted to be a scoop in front and a v in back.

Year: 1953.

Notions: 10-12 yds of pink Hug Snug; white, off white, and pink thread; and an off white plastic zipper (It was all I had that wasn’t dark since I don’t use zippers much for historic sewing…).

How historically accurate?: I give it 95%. Cotton is entirely reasonable for the 1950s. I’m not sure when Hug Snug was first marketed, but the design on the spools certainly looks vintage (and rayon had been in use for at least 20 years by the 1950s). If they didn’t have Hug Snug, they probably had something similar. The pattern was printed in the 1950s and a basic darted bodice is seen on many 1950s dresses and patterns. The sewing machine was in widespread use by the 1950s. The only thing is that my plastic zipper is probably a bit modern (in the 1950s zippers were still metal, I believe).

Hours to complete: 30: lots of interior finishing by machine and hand .

First worn: By Squishy for pictures.

Total cost: My entire 50 yd roll of Hug Snug was only 50 cents, the fabric was about $15, and the zipper was probably about $2… Total: about $17.

Now, you know that I love paying attention to details. I had a lot of fun spending time on the interior details of this dress. Unfortunately, they won’t be visible, but I know that this dress is as cute inside as it is outside, and now you will, too!

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The hems flipped up to see the interior finishing. Both hems are finished with Hug Snug and I also used Hug Snug to bind the seam allowances of the white lining. The seam allowances of the dot fabric are turned and zig zagged (the Hug Snug showed through to the exterior too much when I did a sample using Hug Snug on the dot). The first side of the Hug Snug is machine stitched to the hem and the second side is hand sewn with only tiny prick stitches that go through to the outside fabric so it’s almost invisible.
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More of the inside of the skirt. It’s like candy, with all the pink Hug Snug seam binding on the white fabric! I love it!
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Here’s the side seam of the bodice that doesn’t have the zipper. On the bodice the dot and the white stripe fabric are treated as one, unlike on the skirt. All of the seams are bound with Hug Snug. The armhole (at the top of the photo) and the neckline are bound with self fabric bias strips.
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Here’s a close up of the shoulder seam showing the Hug Snug and the self fabric bias. All of the bodice seam and edge bindings are stitched down to the white stripe lining by hand using whip stitches.
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Here’s what it looks like without skirt support.

I might even like the inside more than the outside… I’m really looking forward to wearing this at some point! I was even thinking that perhaps I could wear it in my modern life without a crinoline petticoat under it, but I think the skirt is a little too long and the waist is a little too high. If I had more of an every day vintage style I might be able to pull it off, or if I was getting dressed up, but for normal days, unfortunately, I don’t think I’ll be wearing it around my everyday life. All the more reason my friends need to clear their calendars!!!

Trouble In Curtain Land

A few weeks ago, I was super excited and motivated that I had time to work on my Curtain Along jacket. I made the changes I had deemed necessary from my last fitting and was feeling good about getting it done and how much I liked it… but then I tried it on again to determine center front and decide about trim… and there were new problems, and I was so discouraged!

The problems sum up in the following way:

Problem #1- The sleeves that go with the jacket in Janet Arnold just do not work for me without serious alteration. The crown isn’t large enough for me to be able to move or be comfortable, and the sleeve is at least 4 inches too short. With the sleeves set in the jacket was pulled all over the place and was so unbearably uncomfortable! And the annoying thing is that in the mockup the sleeve worked!

After ripping the sleeves out, and being thankful that, at least, they were what was causing the bodice to do all sorts of wonky things, I bounced back and came up with a solution. I’ll use the sleeve pattern from my 1780s Robe A La Anglaise and recut the sleeves. I’ve got extra Mineral Felicite fabric, so that’s no problem. On the other hand, I have only tiny matching linen scraps left. Of course, it would be totally period correct to use a different linen to line the sleeves than what I used to line the bodice. But piecing is also period correct, and I decided to use all my tiny matching linen scraps to piece together pieces big enough to cut out the new sleeve pattern.

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Extreme piecing. I’m amused by it at this point. This sleeve is only partially completed (there is more piecing to be done!) but you can see the original pattern shape.

I haven’t finished piecing, or cut out the new Mineral Felicite sleeve, or sewn the new sleeves in… but I think that my solution will work, so we’ll call that problem solved. Whew!

Problem #2- After my initial fittings, I had to add an extension to my center front pieces to get the jacket to close comfortably and without wrinkles. It barely closed in my mockup and I thought it would be enough, but in the real fabric it just wasn’t. So I pieced on extensions. Piecing is totally period correct, but this piecing is so… obvious and symmetrical.

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Center front piecing. The yellow headed pins are my center front line. I haven’t done anything about center front since I put those pins in!

This problem is still unresolved. Plus, I can’t decide how I want the jacket to close, anyway. Pins? Hooks and loops? If you have any thoughts about the piecing problem or the closure indecision, please do share!

Problem #3- Trim! I was going to trim the jacket with box pleated blue silk ribbon around the neck, front, hem, and cuffs. I thought I had enough ribbon (6yds), but in the end I think I have not quite enough to trim all of those edges. AND, the blue didn’t seem to pick up the blue in the print as much as I originally thought it did, and I’m worried that even if I do less pleated trim (say, not the sleeves, or something) the trim will look super costume-y and not 18th century. I also have a gold silk ribbon (5 yds). Not enough to trim the whole jacket, but what if I scrap the idea of trimming the edges and instead do some sort of center front bow trim/something of some sort to hide the piecing using the gold? I think the gold looks nice… but what sort of trim would I do that wouldn’t look made-up and costume-y???

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Blue silk ribbon. There’s blue in the flowers, but perhaps not enough blue to make the blue ribbon make sense???
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Gold silk ribbon. Too match-y?
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Blue and gold together, for comparison.

I  have no idea what I’m going to do about the ribbon issue. Bows at center front seem to be used on stomacher front jackets, and stomacher front jackets seem to be exclusively pet en l’air styles. This jacket is not a pet en l’air, though it could be altered to have a stomacher front (thus eliminating the piecing issue). Sigh. I just think myself around in circles. So again, I appeal to you! If you have any thoughts, please share!

Help! I’d really appreciate it!

A Refreshing Apron

Rather more often than I would like, there are trying times in my well dressed historic life when I volunteer/am obliged to help with refreshments at an event after already being dressed in a fabulous ball gown. “Danger! Danger!” is the cry that should be shouted high and low, but, alas, in the past I have had to hope for the best without protection for my dress.

Granted, I’ve never had an awful accident happen. And though it’s possible I sound disgruntled, I’m quite willing to help with refreshments, even if I’m already dressed. There was a single incident a few months ago, however, when a small bit of unwanted refreshment related stain-age made its sneaky way onto my dress. I was super, super grumpy!!! And I decided, at that point, that I needed protection going forward!

I’ve finally acted upon my decision and sewed up a Refreshing Apron to wear over my dress when helping with refreshments! I’m quite pleased with it and excited to put it to use at some point in the future. I’ll have to get a picture when I’m wearing it over a dress, but for now, I’ve got pictures of the apron on Squishy.

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My new Refreshing Apron!
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And the back. Isn’t it so cute???

I wanted the apron to meet the following conditions: have a full skirt so it can work over everything from Regency to Civil War with maximum coverage, be easy to pattern and easy to sew, and be cute–I really wanted the crossed back. The apron is machine sewn everywhere, except for the ends of the ties and the buttonholes. Yes, the buttons and buttonholes are functional! Perfect for getting the apron on or off with large or elaborately styled hair!

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Hand sewn buttonholes and a close-up of the print.

The entire apron is made of rectangles. The skirt is 3 rectangles seamed together, the  bib is a rectangle, and each tie and strap is a rectangle. I used about 2 1/4 yds of printed cotton from my stash, and now I can’t seem to remember the width. 45″ sounds pretty plausible for a printed cotton.

The print is rather red up close, but from a distance it blends with the white background and looks more pinkish. I rather like the grown up pink look! I’m guessing I’ll have opportunities to wear this in October or November…