At the same sale that I purchased the base of my 1950s super-petticoat and the hat that I refashioned into a 1930s style I also purchased a rather sad 1980s style evening dress. I liked the brocade fabric and had an idea that I could remake the dress into a cocktail length 1950s style dress by removing the sleeves, changing the neckline, and shortening the hem.
I also had this dress in mind. I love the massive decorative butt bow and this remade dress seemed like a great opportunity to put the idea to use. The red had to wrap around the waist as well as making the bow, in order to cover up the original gold waistband, but I had a remnant of cherry silk in my stash that was nicely complimentary in terms of color and just the right size for the job!
From the front I feel generally ok about the dress, but from the back, I love it! Plus, that’s two things checked off the to-do list: I remade the 1980s dress into a wearable 1950s style and I put the butt bow inspiration into action. Plus the fact that I used up a fabric from the stash, which is a bonus!
But why the Queen of Hearts? I decided this was a dress I wanted to wear to an Alice In Wonderland themed event that I recently attended so I had to fit the dress into the theme. I decided on the idea of an elegant 1950s historical nod to Queen Elizabeth in The Crown (which I might have been watching right around the time I was looking for inspiration…). Aloof queen looks are totally my jam, so that works really well.
As long as I was going with a queen look, I decided that a royal order sash would be an easy way to say royalty and hearts all at the same time while also being easy to remove from the dress itself. I did some royal order sash research and decided I liked a sash with a narrow border of a contrasting color. Of course, mine needed to be made in Queen of Hearts colors: black, red, and gold seemed perfect. I pinned heart appliqués behind my shoulder brooch and on the bow to play up the Queen of Hearts theme.
It was fun to accessorize the dress and sash with long gloves, red drop earrings, a tiara, and my silver American Duchess Seaburys (the gold brocade fabric that makes up the back of the shoes complimented the gold brocade dress very nicely!). I think I like the butt bow with the sash even better than the butt bow by itself!
To make the sash, I googled ‘royal order sash’ and looked at lots of images to decide on a design. Mine is made of two rectangles, with an angled shoulder seam and tucks behind the bow loops for shaping. It’s made of red polyester with woven-in tiny black stripes and edged with sheer gold ribbon. For more detailed sash making information, Gina posted very detailed tutorial for making royal sashes that would probably be quite useful if you’re thinking of making one for yourself.
I’ll leave you with this silly shot of the Queen of Hearts with a flamingo. Croquet, anyone?
I made this 1928 evening dress and first wore it in 2012. Back then it was simple, with just a small cascade of fabric and no sash or bow (I show the construction in detail in this past post). Three years later, I decided to add the sash, bow, and extra cascade of fabric (and wrote a post about it). I liked the effect but wasn’t pleased with the slippery silk moving all over and sliding around. The armholes were also a bit high under the arms from the beginning, causing the trim to dig in a bit which wasn’t very comfortable.
Due to these issues and the addition of other 1920s evening dresses to my wardrobe I hadn’t worn this dress in a few years. But for an event this January, I decided to give it another go. Luckily, the dress still fit and didn’t cling in unwanted places! The first HSM challenge of 2018, Mend, Reshape, Refashion, was the perfect complement for the updates I wanted to complete.
To be specific about the updates, this time I lowered the armholes about 1″ and then pieced in extra trim to fill in the gap, sewed the sash/bow in place, and added an interior waistband that supports the weight of the bow and keeps the dress from pulling down on one side.
Our hotel room had a bonus vanity table and stool that was a perfect prop for photos…
I did my hair like I did last year but added a gold hair comb I recently discovered at my parent’s house. I’m pretty sure my mom gave it to me when I was a child or maybe a teenager… It’s just been sitting there waiting for me to put it to use again!
Just the facts:
Fabric: The only new fabric was a scrap of tightly woven polyester for an inner waistband.
Pattern: My own, based on measurements.
Year: 1928.
Notions: Extra trim to piece under the arms, thread.
How historically accurate is it?: Let’s say 95%, with points lost for the polyester.
Hours to complete: The updates took about 4 hours. I felt like hand sewing most of it so I could watch Netflix!
First worn: With the updates in January, 2018.
Total cost: Free!
I love how this dress looks and fits now! Yay! It only took three tries… It’s a good lesson: if you don’t succeed the first time, try again! And keep trying…! Third time is the charm on this one!
I had a chance to wear my 1899 Elusive Blue Dress at the end of last year plus the opportunity to take some wintery-feeling photos in it. This dress is so fun to wear–elegant and swooshy! Plus, the big hair of this period is just what my hair loves to do. So in the spirit of my post in 2016 sharing a more summery turn of the century ensemble, enjoy this Winter Gibson Girl Vignette!
The summer was incredibly busy and the things I was making unfortunately didn’t fit into the HSM challenges, but I’m hoping to get back to it for the end of the year. In that spirit, I finished a dress that qualifies for the HSM Challenge #10: Out Of Your Comfort Zone. I’m a bit late posting about it because it took me two tries to have a successful photo shoot and then a bit of time to edit my photos, but nevertheless, the dress was completed within the deadline. It qualifies in that I’m expanding into 1930s daywear with the making of this dress.
Unlike some garments I make which have a specific wearing in mind, this was different in that I was trying the idea out to see if this 1933 shape would be flattering on me. I do like the silhouette a lot and so hopefully I’ll make more similar dresses in the future. The years right around 1933 are a great mix of awfully silly, with their big neck frills/bows and unusual sleeves, and wonderfully elegant, with long hems that look especially flattering on those of us blessed with height.
The inspiration for this dress came from looking through many books of 1930s clothing. I wanted to try out the longer length bias skirt and I liked the bust spray detail I found along the way in 1930s Fashion: The Definitive Sourcebook (page 308). It’s not as crazy as some early 1930s neck frills, making it a good starting point for getting into this decade. (Look at these examples of neck bows from 1934, for example. They make my dress look subdued.) I did add some interesting sleeves though, based on a 1933 pattern for different sleeve types.
As I mentioned, I did two photo shoots for this dress. The first one failed pretty horribly, as I was out in public, pressed for time, and my phone camera wasn’t cooperating with me. But the second photo shoot was much more successful! It may have taken over 300 photos to get ones that I like, but because I was using a timer with burst photos on my camera I could run back and forth across my yard to my heart’s content, practicing all my best dramatic poses and facial expressions. Unfortunately, my phone camera isn’t outstanding enough to have taken great photos with the slanting afternoon sunlight. I’m calling it ‘artsy.’ (What I really need is an event to wear this to in a good-picture-background-setting, so that I can get better quality pictures…)
Anyway, here are the facts (just for the dress, as the hat doesn’t really qualify for the HSM):
Fabric: Green and gold small windowpane mystery (but likely polyester) fabric and gold silk scraps.
Pattern: My own. I draped the bodice and skirt pieces and referenced images to flat pattern the sleeves.
Year: 1933.
Notions: Thread, zipper, hooks, and hug snug.
How historically accurate is it?: Let’s say 95%. It’s entirely recognizable in its own time and made in a way that is straightforward and consistent with historic garments. The materials are not 100% accurate.
Hours to complete: 5-10 sounds likely, although I spread making this out over about a year, so it’s pretty hard to remember!
First worn: October 2017, for pictures.
Total cost: $1/yard for the fabric and all the notions from the stash, so let’s say $4. Win!
The back of the dress is pretty plain. All the interesting details are on the front. But here it is, for the sake of documenting all of the angles.
On the inside, the dress looks like this. The seam allowances are either left raw if they are on the bias or pinked if they are on the straight of grain. The neck is finished with a facing which is tacked in place. There are moderate shoulder pads to help achieve the correct silhouette. The bottom edge is finished with hug snug and an invisible hem. The dress closes on the side with a hand sewn zipper. There is a self fabric belt as well.
Now for a bit about my hat and hairstyle. First, the hat is a remake of a wool velour hat I purchased for $5 at a theatre sale. It was a bowler shape originally. I cut off the brim, cut down the crown, reattached the two, and then took some tucks in the crown to give it a more unique shape.
Hair-style-wise, I was going to do my usual close to my head 1920s/30s style (I explained and documented it in this past post) but it didn’t seem to compliment my hat, so I decided to try a more down around the chin, lightly curled bob style.
My method for this is as follows: I started with wet hair and a bit of Tigi Small Talk. I parted my hair on the side and added wave clips (3 on the longer side and 1 on the shorter side). Then I braided the rest of my hair to keep it damp while the front dried. A few hours later, I removed the wave clips and ran my fingers through the front sections to loosen them up a bit. To create the chin length look, I looped up large sections of my hair and pinned them to the top of my head. The hat hid all the pinned up bits nicely. My hair has much less volume when it’s damp (and even after it’s dried in a not-voluminous way if I don’t touch it at all), so the chin length curls had a nice close to the head look to them.
I’m pretty pleased with this hairstyle. It will definitely get tried out again someday. The outfit is fun, too! I love that the hat matches perfectly and ties the whole thing together. Plus, it reminds me of autumn, my favorite season.
A few months ago, I had a post with the same name that focused on two Regency dresses that had experienced closet shrinkage. The post was centered around what I did to make them wearable again. Around the same time I was battling the Regency closet shrinkage, I encountered the same problem with two of my older mid-19th century dresses as well. Boo!
It took me awhile to do anything about the problem and even longer to post about it, but here we are.
There was a time when the back edges of Evie’s bodice met from top to bottom. In fact, if you look at the pictures in this post from 2013 you’ll see that there was even excess fabric around the waist (yikes, but that does mean my waist has expanded a fair bit!); however, by February 2016, the bodice looked like this:
Uh oh! That wasn’t going to do for wearing at a ball! So I brought my corset and bodice (plus the other bodice I’ll mention shortly), got all laced up, and had a friend measure the gap between the back bodice edges and take pictures for documentation (so I wouldn’t forget the measurement, because let’s face it, my memory is pretty terrible sometimes).
Then I pondered my options. There was no way to let out the seams on this bodice, as the fabric has scarred at every point the needle and thread passed through. Plus, I didn’t leave much seam allowance anyway. Given my limited options, I decided that a placket was the best way to go. Many extant dresses using lacing as the method of closure on bodices and I’m sure that ladies in the 19th century changed sizes, too. I went on a hunt and couldn’t find an example of a bodice with a placket showing between the lacing, but museums have the benefit of being able to put their collections on forms rather than real people, which allows for easier adjustability to have the lacing edges touching. (If you know of any examples of a bodice laced with a placket under the gap, please let me know!) Anyway, I don’t think it’s unrealistic to assume that some ladies in the 19th century used the same method I did to allow adjustability in their bodices.
In addition to the placket, I also had to extend the bertha to bridge the gap. For that I was able to unfold my seam allowance, respace my gold ruffle, and cover the remaining gap with a rosette of gold like the one on the front of the bodice (another instance of the benefit of saving all the scraps from a project–this finished off the gold bits I had leftover from the original construction). Thankfully, these changes worked. I wore Evie to a ball in March 2016 and was happy as a clam. The placket was hardly noticeable and now the dress is much more adjustable!
The second bodice was for the dress named Annabelle, which was made in 2011 (and worn again later in 2011). This bodice also closed all the way down the back when it was made. Well, that’s not the case any more. Actually, a few years ago I’d already converted the closure from being hooks and eyes with folded over seam allowance to lacing with less seam allowance folded over in order to eek out a little more space, but that just wasn’t enough. By 2016, here’s how we were looking. It was time for a more drastic update.
I did the same thing I did for Evie, adding a placket and regathering the bertha to make it span the lacing gap. It took me about two years to get to it, but the result is that I was able to wear Annabelle to a recent ball in October, with a back that looked like this.
Not bad! The only thing I want to change is making that top edge actually stay matched rather than the one side riding up. But that’s a minor change. Overall, I’m pleased to be able to continue to wear this dress!
There we are–two more examples of how to fix the-dress-no-longer-fits problem! It was incredibly lovely to receive comments on the Regency post that other people also experience closet shrinkage and have already adapted their clothing to deal with it or are now inspired to do so. It is my hope that continuing to post about this topic will encourage others come to terms with their own changing size as well as ideas for how we can all deal and move forward while still being able to wear our finery.
Summer temperatures lingered on here until just the other day, though they were not quite as hot and humid as they were on the 4th of July…
The day of the event started off a bit rocky, as I was confused about what time I was meeting my friends to carpool and so was just starting to get ready as they were getting in the car to leave the house I was supposed to meet them at, an hour from my house! I wound up driving to the event by myself and getting there a bit late. It wasn’t a great way to start the day, but at least it went up from there.
Being the beginning of July, it was hot, even in the morning. I was dripping sweat just standing still in the shade and I didn’t sit down until after pictures were taken because I knew how wrinkly my rayon dress would be as soon as I even looked at a chair! See, no wrinkles… yet!
As you have probably deduced by now, I made a new dress! The goal was to have a war-time 1940s dress made from a fabric that had been sitting in the stash since 2013 waiting to be made into a 1930s or 1940s dress.
The dress is constructed from 3ish yards of rayon. (I don’t remember the exact yardage.) It’s a greyish/mauve color with little teal clovers all over. It’s machine sewn and hand finished. The seam allowances are left raw on the inside–a detail I have noticed in 1940s dresses I’ve had the chance to observe.
The dress closes with 12 buttons which run in groups of two down the front (and a hidden hook and eye at the waist). It’s a perfect detail for wartime, when I’ve read that zippers were being used less frequently so the metal could go to the war effort. The buttons-in-groups-of-two detail was directly inspired by this image. (The image came from this post by The Closet Historian. It has many lovely dresses from the Spring/Summer 1943 Montgomery Ward catalogue.)
I spent lots of time looking at buttons on Etsy in order to find some that matched the particular shade of teal I was looking for. I was so pleased when I found them! It was only after I ordered them that I realized they were shipping from Europe. I was very nervous they wouldn’t arrive in time for the event! Luckily, they arrived just a few days before, giving me just enough time to sew them on the dress. Whew!
I couldn’t find a buckle in the same teal color and I thought that might be too matchy anyway, so I went with a slightly grayish mother of pearl buckle instead, also from Etsy.
The pattern is a mix up of two different things: a 1970s shirt dress pattern for the bodice/sleeves and a self-drafted skirt pattern. I wanted to get the two pleats in the front of the skirt like the inspiration image has while also making the hem as full as was allowed during wartime rationing–a sweep of 74″. These two requirements made it easier to pattern something myself than try to start with anything I could easily find. I like the pleats in the front, but wish I had placed them a little farther towards the side seams. Oh well!
The back of the skirt is shaped with darts. Turns out they’re a little tipsy and listing towards the side seams… oops. The square-shoulder 1940s silhouette is achieved with the assistance of some super thick shoulder pads. Looks pretty silly on a hanger but slightly less silly on me, thankfully!
I like this photo of those of us from our group who were dressed in civilian clothes. In fact, there’s a whole series of us walking towards and away from the camera. It was hard to narrow it down to just one!
Before I made it, I wasn’t sure how I’d feel about an early 1940s day dress. I like shirt dresses when I see them but I don’t usually wear clothes with collars (nor many garments with buttons), so these were an unusual touch in my wardrobe. I’m pleased to report that with the proper accessories and hairstyle I felt perfectly comfortable and un-frumpy in this new decade. Win! Next up, a post with all the details of my successful victory rolls!
Life has been so busy for last month and a half or so that posting about my sewing and adventures had no choice but to be put on hold. However, things have calmed down now and I have plenty of blog content that just needs time and inspiration to be crafted into posts. To that end, I present a new dress!
This dress was years in the making. It’s story started four years ago when I was on a mission to add prints to my wardrobe and found this cotton print. It’s a nice weight for a dress: mid-weight and opaque. It’s a bit hard to remember, but I’m pretty sure I started work on it pretty quickly. My plan was to use the bodice from Butterick 5880 with a vintage-inspired skirt of my own creation.
The skirt shape I started with was slightly A-line and gathered into the waist. I’d cut it nice and long, I think in case I wanted a deep hem or tucks. It was decidedly calf length. I knew I didn’t want the notches in the neckline of the bodice and I was thinking of a boat neck shape, so the original bodice was also very high on my collarbones.
When I tried it on… it was so dowdy! I was horrified! It was also a little large. (No pictures, I was too horrified!) All together, I couldn’t even begin to see how I would make it wearable. I stuck it in my UFO pile and let it sit there for years. Every summer I would tell myself I would make it better, but it took four years to feel mentally ready to tackle it.
This year, I started by removing the offensive skirt then fitting the bodice, which turned out to just be taking in the side seams a bit. I took apart the skirt pieces and took stock of what I had to work with. I hadn’t used all of the 3.5 yards I’d purchased, so I had a yard or so uncut to work with as well as the pieces I’d taken apart. In the end, all I did was to shorten the skirt pieces to a flattering length and pleat them to the bodice instead of gathering them. Originally, the skirt was just two panels, but that didn’t have enough oomph for me, so I set out to cut as many more as I could. Unfortunately, due to the fact that I’d cut the original skirt pieces so long, I could only cut one more skirt panel from my extra fabric. Boo!
I was thinking of pleats all around the waist, but I couldn’t find a way to make it symmetrical and pleasing to me with only three panels. It put seams in odd places and just wasn’t working. In the end, I decided to make the front mostly flat and keep the pleated oomph in the back. It looks smooth and A-line shaped from the front…
But the back has lots of pleats! I love the fullness! Too bad it couldn’t be that way in front, too. Oh well. Next time!
I also changed the neckline. I abandoned the idea of a boat neck (save that for another dress, I think) and changed the neckline to be a wide V shape, a style which I really like. Opening up the neckline helped balance the overall look.
The dress is almost entirely machine sewn. Since it’s a casual cotton dress, I machine sewed the hem and the arm openings with a narrow hem and put a centered zipper up the back (and I’m pleased with myself that the pleats extend all the way to center back despite the zipper and it’s all nicely stitched!). The neckline is finished with bias tape that is invisibly stitched by hand after being turned. All of the interior seams are serged. Also, the dress has the bonus of pockets! Keeping the seams at the sides allowed me to easily put in side seam pockets, which I topstitched in keeping with the other visible machine sewing.
And at long last, a happy clover dress that brings a smile to my face instead of frown! It was glorious to get it off the UFO pile and even better to wear it!
Whether you sew historical clothing or not, I think it’s likely you’ve experienced the following phenomenon: You buy or make a lovely dress or other garment and wear it once (or maybe you wear it a lot). The season changes and you put said lovely garment away in the closet to await the next year’s season. When you next go to wear it, you realize that the garment no longer fits. It has obviously shrunk in the closet! I find that circumferences are the worst culprits for closet shrinking: waists, ribcage, arms… How dare they?!?
This has happened to me with both modern ready-made clothes and historical ones. Unlike modern ones, which usually hang around for a few years until I feel emotionally ready to donate them to someone else who might actually fit into them, my historical clothing has the benefit of being able to be resized with relatively little effort (certainly much less than making a new garment!). Depending on how I’ve constructed the garment, seams might be able to be let out or, being the pack rat that I am, I have more of the fabric hanging around and I can cut new pieces or add to what is there to expand at the necessary areas.
The more often I come across this problem in my wardrobe, the more I realize the benefit of making my clothing more adjustable from the start, with things like drawstrings and lots of overlap on opaque garments. (Did you notice that most of the closures on my recent 1817 Duchess Regency Gown were drawstrings? There might be an intentional rationale there… My 1811 Elusive Blue Gown also closes with ties and drawstrings, another intentional decision.)
1817 gown with mostly drawstring closures.
In the past year or two, I realized that two of my older and oft-worn Regency dresses had experienced closet shrinkage. I wanted to continue to be able to wear them and so I started thinking of the best ways to alter the size to make them wearable again. Luckily, both of these dresses fall into the category of ‘I kept the extra fabric and have plenty to play with to resize them.’
It’s always closed with hooks and eyes, but when I went to wear it last year it wouldn’t close! With some safety pins, we got it to this point, but I was afraid for the integrity of the fabric because it was stretched so tightly.
I was able to use someone’s small scissors to take out the stitches along the back edge with the loops on it to get a bit more fabric across and we used the safety pins for bars with a piece of ribbon folded behind to stabilize the now-only-one-layer of fabric. But I wasn’t willing to let people see it looking like this!
Thankfully, I had a shawl with me and I wore it the entire evening to cover the back. I was apparently nonchalant enough that no one realized I was wearing a shawl to cover the fact that my dress wouldn’t close, but I was awfully warm while dancing! Something had to be done before I would wear the dress again.
I pondered multiple ideas, but the one I settled on was to cut new center back pieces with more width to them and sew them over the current, too-small pieces. I also had to piece the waistband to extend it as well as re-pleating the skirt to fit the larger size waistband, but it looks pretty good, I’d say.
The inside of the dress now looks like this. Previously, it was unlined (I did a post about the original inside finishing of this dress, which you can see here). Now, the center back panel has a lining to help stabilize it and encase the original back panels and waistband extension. Still tidy, yay!
In addition, the armhole openings had become quite tight. I wanted a little more space to be comfortable, so I also added underarm gussets (the upside down triangle). I simply opened up the seam and added a diamond shaped piece. It’s diamond shaped and folded in the center to hide the raw edges inside and out. I didn’t bother to add a band at the bottom, as I figured this gusset was in a place no one was likely to see such detail.
The other dress is my 1812 white square neck Ikea gown. I made this in 2012and have also worn it many times. Before the recent changes, I had made no other alterations to the dress since I first made it.
This dress also had a panel added to center back, but I had to more carefully follow the details of the dress, including the small seams (because of the sheer fabric) and the tucked waistband. This dress has spent a lot of time in the sun, and between that and being gently washed a few times, the fabric has become a much brighter white than it started out. It’s not noticeable, until I add a piece of the same fabric that has been sitting in my stash and the light hits it just right. (It’s convenient for pointing out the new fabric though, because it’s pretty obvious in the picture below!)
Sometimes, this would bother me. But it’s only noticeable in some light and I hope that eventually the pieces will also brighten. Plus, it’s entirely historically reasonable to piece a gown using more of the fabric that hasn’t faded in the same way as the rest of the garment to adjust the size. It’s much more practical than making an all new garment!
I had to regather the skirt on this dress (like I had to repleat the red one) to accommodate the new waistband size. I also added an underarm gusset on this dress to help the arm openings be more comfortable.
While the red dress fit pretty perfectly after the alterations, the white dress alterations proved to be too much (it’s hard to fit these things on yourself when the closures are in the back!) and I now need to move my eyes over and add a drawstring to the top of the back neckline to keep my undergarments from showing. Sometimes it seems like some garments will never leave the to-do list. Oh well! Does that happen to you? You think a garment is done until you wear it and realize it needs something changed or added? (I’m proud to report that between the time I started writing this post and the time I finished writing this post I completed those final two notes–drawstring and bars–and now the dress is done and ready to get put away! Hooray for getting rid of UFOs!)
Do you ever resize your modern or historical clothing after closet shrinkage? What methods have you used?
On the same January shopping trip that I unexpectedly found the blush sparkle fabric I made a 1920s dress out of I also unexpectedly found an excellent fabric for a new Regency evening dress. I hadn’t made one in awhile, but I had a Regency weekend coming up and I was wanting something new for the fancier ball (and of course nothing in my stash was inspiring me). In my wanderings around the store, I discovered an organza curtain sheer that brought to mind this particular fashion plate that has been on my ‘to-sew’ list for years.
1819 – Ackermann’s Repository Series 2 Vol 7 – March Issue
I’d been on the look-out for a sheer with black stripes but hadn’t found anything suitable. Once I found the curtain fabric, I debated whether to use it for a dress in this style or to hold out for the black stripe. As you’ll see, I decided to call this inspiration fulfilled by the gold striped fabric that I found. It’s polyester, but that means it was a good price. Occasionally, a polyester can be just the thing.
In addition to the Ackerman’s fashion plate, I also borrowed design ideas from two other striped evening gowns: this earlier Costume Parisien fashion plate from 1809 and this image of the Duchess d’Angoulême c. 1815. My dress is a conglomeration of these and the 1819 fashion plate. I borrowed the sheer overdress idea from 1819, the single row of scalloped trim from 1809, and the bias cut sleeves from 1815. I date my dress to 1817, as the fluffy nature of the organza pushes the silhouette towards 1820, but the single row of trim pulls it back from 1819 just a bit.
I have a full compliment of nicely finished underthings that are perfect for making the sheer dress opaque. It was never my intention to be a scandalous Regency lady with minimal underthings! In fact, to make the ensemble sufficiently opaque, I wore my chemise plus two petticoats under the sheer dress. Without the second petticoat it was clear where my chemise ended (at my knees, in case you’re curious), but I didn’t want to have the illusion of scandal with this, I really wanted opacity all the way down.
Like the new pelisse, the sheer dress provided another perfect opportunity to make further use of my Vernet petticoat, which has a lovely eyelet border at the hem. Here’s another view that shows off the lace on the petticoat.
It’s usual for me to meticulously finish the insides of my garments, but in the case of a sheer dress, that desire became a necessity. Accordingly, all of the inside seams are nicely finished with a mix of French, flat felled, and folding seam allowances to hide raw edges and whipping them together. I kept the finished seam allowances small, so that they wouldn’t detract from the stripes.
The bottoms of the sleeves and the front and back necklines are all adjustable with tiny drawstrings made from champagne colored embroidery floss. The goal was to have ties that would blend and not be noticeable through the sheer fabric.
The pattern for this dress was adapted from other Regency dresses I have made. I think I most closely referenced the patterns for my tree gown and square neck gown, but adjusted the fullness to give this dress a little more oomph.
This dress is machine sewn and hand finished. All of the French seaming was done on machine, as was the assembly of the bodice, waistband, and skirt to make a dress, but all of the other stitching (casings, hems, trim, finishing seam allowances in non-French ways, etc.) was done by hand.
The dress has a scalloped trim band around the bottom, set up high enough to show off the lace on the Vernet petticoat. It’s hand hemmed and it seems like miles… though I think it was only about 9 yards. Hemming, gathering, and attaching this was one of the last tasks and it was going right up until about 2am on the morning of the ball. By the time it was being sewn on there was no measuring or sectioning, just eyeballing, so it’s a little wavier than I would normally allow, but one has to make accommodations (sometimes). I was envisioning the scallops would be spaced out more and therefore be more defined, but as I was furiously sewing the trim on I was not about to cut it up and resew it, so all 9 yards made it onto the dress. It’s fine. I’m happy. I do not plan to re-do the fullness of the trim or the placement!
Masquerade! Hide your face so the world will never find you! Masquerade! Every face a different shade… Masquerade! Look around there’s another mask behind you!
I’ve always wanted to attend a masquerade. This wasn’t quite the masquerade of The Phantom Of The Opera, not having sweeping orchestral music and head-to-toe colorful costumes, but it was nonetheless fun and a bit surreal in the masks-plus-fabulous-location-ness (I think a bit of a surreal experience is what makes a masquerade a unique experience, so this is entirely a positive description here).
Digressions about masquerades aside, back in November of last year I had the good fortune to attend such an event myself. The theme was 1960s, but I had recently acquired a 1950s dress that fit me so perfectly that it just HAD to be worn, so I opted to be a bit old fashioned for the theme of the party.
The event was held in a very nice downtown hotel. We had a series of rooms including the ballroom, its foyer, and a parlor-type space far enough away from the music to easily chat and lounge. It was quite elegant feeling!
Usually I don’t wear vintage or historical garments. I’d prefer to use them for study and don’t want to damage them. But I made an exception in this case and did my best to be gentle with the dress. I carefully mended it before wearing and then again after, as the delicate lace was pulling apart at the seams under the arms when I received the dress as well as after wearing it. My second version of the mend was to put gussets under the arms, using a tiny bit of leftover fabric I had from shortening the sleeves (I wanted to do this during the pre-wearing mend, but ran out of time). I think the sleeves were full length on the original owner, but they came down to an awkward mid-forearm length on me, so I shortened them to be a nice 3/4 length. I know! It was a hard decision to make, changing the dress, but I think it is in keeping with the period the dress is from and it allowed me to better fix the underarm problem, so I’ve come to terms with the choice.
Here’s a slightly clearer view of the bodice. The lace is backed by nude net and there is a silk faille band around the waist. The entire skirt is faille with an overlay of the same lace and horsehair around the hem for stiffening.
For my hair, I decided it was go big or go home, so I used my largest bun form (part of the base of my Versailles hairstyle) to create a giant poof-bun-thing on top of my head that’s a nod to the 1960s beehive. I think it was balanced out well by the feathers on my mask. Plus, in general I’m pretty good at making big hair work.
I put the mask on a stick so that it wouldn’t irritate my face and so that something like an elastic wouldn’t squash my huge hair. A bonus is that I could peek out from behind it, as in this picture.
With this ensemble, I wore the same sparkly earrings I wore to Versailles and my silver American Duchess Seaburys with silver rhinestone shoe clips to make the ensemble even more bling-y!
The event included food and dancing and chatting. I had a great time that was even better than I was expecting, though I think that was due to being tired after a long week of work and not really sure if the event would be a hit or not.
My friends and I did lots of silly 1960s dances–the monkey, the swim, etc. (Are these really 1960s? I don’t know for sure, but in my mind they are…) These pictures of my dancing in the lobby are some of my favorite, partly because swishing around in my 1950s dress was so much fun!
The Quintessential Clothes Pen 