HSM #11: c. 1785 Green Linen Stays

I’m excited that the green stays in my most recent post qualify for the Historical Sew Monthly Challenge #11: Fitting (Make something that focuses on fit).

If you read my lengthy post about making these, you’ll hear all about how fit was both one of the reasons I started these and that I had a joyful time playing with fit as I created them.

I actually finished these on March 30 and I’m excited to post about them before 2022 ends so that they can officially qualify for the HSM this year!

Just the facts:

Fabric/Materials: ½ yd green linen (exterior), 1 yard heavy olive linen (inner layers), and ½ yd ivory linen/cotton blend (lining).

Pattern: My own, but using the drafting guide on page 155 of Patterns of Fashion 5.

Year: c. 1785.

Notions: Heavyweight ivory Guterman thread, regular weight tan Guterman thread, cotton covered polyester quilting thread, approximately 410″ of ⅜” wide zip ties (boning), 11 ½” heavy duty steel bone (busk), 2 ⅛ yard ¼”  linen twill tape (covering seams), and 4 yards ½” linen twill tape (binding).

How historically accurate is it?: 90%. The pattern and materials are good. The construction methods are a mix of modern and historical.

Hours to complete: It seems that I didn’t keep track. Maybe 32 hours?

First worn: Has not been worn yet, except to get photos for the blog.

Total cost: The fabrics came from the stash as leftovers from other projects or were gifted to me. I’d say the notions cost about $16 +  $15 for the linen twill tape. So, let’s say about $35, if we include thread.

There is a lengthy post sharing the story behind these stays, my musings about the journey to complete them, many photos of the construction process and the stays on the body, and written construction details that you can read here.

c. 1785 Stays (Of Fail), Part V: Middle Construction Details

I had hoped to get all of my remaining construction details into this post, but progress on the stays has slowed. Plus, I realized I didn’t have enough linen tape to bind the edges, so new binding needed to be ordered. That has been done but I’ve been so busy that no sewing has happened yet. So for now, here are the middle parts of the construction update.

Updating Gussets

After all the initial steps of putting the stays together (which I detailed in my previous post in this series), I had a fitting that left me feeling rather disappointed. I’ve already detailed the results of that fitting, in Part II of this series.

To summarize: I wanted to raise the gusset I’d added to the back with the goal of providing more width at the waist and hopefully increasing the comfort of the stays on my back. Accordingly, I removed the offending short gusset out of the stays, but, instead of piecing new gussets out of my meager scraps, I realized I could cannibalize the straps I’d originally cut (but decided not to use) to make longer gussets.

Below: the new, longer gussets in place.

This worked well for the exterior linen and one layer of interlining linen, but the straps were only ever going to have one inner layer of linen. And none of my scraps were quite long enough to make a second layer now that the piece would be used in the main body of the stays.

So, I used what I could and layered a second piece near the bottom tab to extend the second layer of linen. Work with what you have, right?

This new gusset had a wider bone channel already sewed… and I really didn’t want to deal with my narrow bone idea again. Therefore, these two pieces will have permanently wide boning channels. It’s all in the spirit of making do! I did have to extend the bone channels after adding the extra bit of linen near the tab, but that was easy to do.

Covering Seams & Finishing Edges

Following the information in Patterns of Fashion 5 (see my fourth blog post in this series for more information on this incredible book), I covered the visible whip stitches that formed the seams of the pieces with 1/4″ linen tape.

Then, I basted all around every exterior edge, to hold the layers in place while I continued to work on the stays. I followed that by whip stitching the raw edges, in order to create a more stable edge for the binding.

In the photo below you can see the linen tape covering the seams and the edges that have been basted and whipped.

Finally, I was ready to bind the edges!

You can read previous posts in this series here:
c. 1785 Stays (Of Fail), Part IV: Early Construction Details
c. 1785 Stays (Of Fail), Part III: The Pattern
c. 1785 Stays (Of Fail), Part II: Fitting Update
c. 1785 Stays (Of Fail), Part I: Beginnings

c. 1785 Stays (Of Fail), Part IV: Early Construction Details

Construction Process Resource

The book I used to create the pattern for my stays (Stays and Corsets: Historical Patterns Translated for the Modern Body by Mandy Barrington) gives very little in the way of construction information for stays (process, materials, and details). I found this to be really disappointing.

Thankfully, however, there are other resources that one can go to for this type of information. I chose to reference Patterns of Fashion 5 (PofF5), authored by Janet Arnold, Jenny Tiramani, Luca Costigliolo, Sebastien Passot, Armelle Lucas and Johannes Pietsch.

The great thing is that I could go to PoF5! It had not yet been released when I started this project, but I have it in hand now… and I must say that it is an absolute gold mine of information! There is so much research, expertise, and detail included. There are so many color photos. There are x rays of extant garments. And of course there are patterns. And information about patterning and making both in the past and now.

I cannot do anything but rave about this book! It is almost double the length of the earlier Patterns of Fashion books. I actually sat down and read this book cover to cover, which is not how I usually deal with pattern books (usually I read the bits that are relevant to a certain project). This book is amazing!

On To The Construction Process

Despite creating a pattern from another source, PoF5 was invaluable for the construction process of my stays. Using information in PoF5, I decided to make my stays from an outer layer of linen, 2 layers of linen buckram, and a lining (that will likely be linen).

To start, I cut out the exterior and 2 layers of heavy linen for the interlining. Below is a photo of my inner heavy linen with the pattern laid on top. I used stash fabric and found a piece that just barely fit my pieces. No seam allowance is included in the pattern, so you can see that I really eked my pieces out!

To nerd out on history fun and try something new, I decided to make my own stiffened buckram for the inner layers. So, on a hot August afternoon I was to be found sitting on my deck dripping with sweat while painting gum tragacanth onto my linen pieces instead of being inside where it was cool.

So what is gum tragacanth? It is a stiffening agent used to make linen buckram, which is a material used to stiffen 18th century stays.

Burnley and Trowbridge has a great video about making buckram that describes fum tragacanth and Leimomi, The Dreamstress, has a great blog post discussing gum tragacanth and xanthan gum. The post includes videos and lots of wonderful how-to information.

I used a paintbrush to spread my gum tragacanth on my linen. By the end I was definitely getting a little sloppy because I wanted to get out of the sun as quickly as possible, but I was still impressed with myself for the lengths I go to sometimes for the sake of historical exploration!

Below is a photo of my set up. Cardboard from the recycle, a dish-shaped piece of packaging from the recycle, and a paint brush.

I used a full 4.4 oz bottle of Eco-Flo Gum Tragacanth for my double layer linen interlining. In the dish you can see the consistency of it. It was wonderful not to need to mix or heat it, as you would need to do with xanthan gum.

To be honest, I didn’t notice too much of a difference in the linen after applying the gum tragacanth. (This could be because I was already using a heavy linen?) It also seems, and makes sense, that the stiffness has been reduced as I’ve worked with the fabrics. Regardless, I am still entertained and enriched by my experiment.

After the gum tragacanth dried, I flat lined my 3 layers for each piece (2 layers of heavy linen and the exterior linen) and marked my boning channels. I found that using Frixion pens worked well, because the marks easily erase with a hot iron after the channels are sewn (and the pen marks don’t rub off while being sewn, as with chalk). Magic!

There was lots… and lots… of sewing boning channels, as you can see blow.

After all my channels were complete (and I’d pushed in all those narrow zip ties I ranted about in my first post about these stays), I moved on to the eyelets. There are eyelets for the center back closure and eyelets for front adjustability, as on the inspiration Chertsey stays (which you can see in my third post about these stays).

I realized that I hadn’t cut my center back pieces with enough fabric to wrap around past the eyelets (though I didn’t have enough fabric to do that, anyway!), so I pieced strips together and whip stitched them on to make the extension, as you can see on the right side of the next photo.

After the eyelets were done, I assembled my pieces with whip stitches.

I whip stitched the seam allowances down as well, thinking that might help make the stays fit smoothly for a fitting.

That basically brings the project up to the unfinished state it is in now, minus a few fittings and adding that back gusset.

You can read previous posts in this series here:
c. 1785 Stays (Of Fail), Part III: The Pattern
c. 1785 Stays (Of Fail), Part II: Fitting Update
c. 1785 Stays (Of Fail), Part I: Beginnings

Plum Pants With Pointed Pockets

Last year, I happened across a lovely plum colored linen/rayon blend fabric at Joann’s that was such a perfect Quinn-color that I just couldn’t pass it up…. Accordingly, 3 yards came home with me along with the idea to make wide leg pants out of the yardage.

Trying To Determine The Design

I wasn’t really sure exactly what I wanted in terms of specific design details, which made the patterning and mockup process rather slow. I spent a few hours making mockups that fiddled with the width of the legs, the length of the crotch seams, and my design idea–trying to decide exactly what it is I was trying to make!

I was extremely frustrated for awhile (close to despair, as Anne of Green Gables might say) as the mockups looked like medical scrubs. The legs weren’t wide enough to look like the vision in my head at that point and I just couldn’t figure out what the details would be. I thought I wanted a non-functional wide tie at the waist, but that wasn’t looking right with the scrub looking pants. (The scrub problem was likely related to the fact that the old sheets I was using as my mockup fabric are dark grey, so the color and texture was scrub like…)

Not too long after my frustrating mockup sewing session, I was sewing something else and watching the Netflix series High Seas when I saw a pair of high waisted pants on one of the lead actresses and thought ‘That’s it!’. This particular pair of pants had details I loved: a high waist, wide legs, and pockets that added interest and vintage charm. After that, mocking up the pants and finishing the pattern was so much easier!

Getting Started

After pre-washing my fabric, I was ready to go! The basic pants are pretty straight forward with front and back pieces as well as a waistband, but they have additional pieces for the pockets as well as canvas interfacing for the waistband.

The pants are mostly machine sewn, with a bit of hand finishing on the waistband (you can see the whip stitches on the bottom of the waistband in the photo below). The exposed inside edges are either french seamed, as with the pockets (on the left in the photo below), or finished with a serger (on the right in the photo below).

The pockets and waistband facing are cut from an early mockup iteration made from repurposed sheets (yay for reusing old fabric!). I decided to use the mockup fabric for the real pants because 1) the mockup made me mad and I wanted to get back at it 2) the smooth cotton is a good facing/pocket material.

Here’s a look inside one of the pockets. It’s not likely to ever be seen (in any venue other than this!), but the top stitching along the facing edges makes me very happy.

The pants have a wide hem–2″–that is machine top stitched in place. With perfectly matching thread (that was in my stash as a gift from a friend–yay!), the topstitching blends right in.

While all of the visible stitching is done in the perfectly matching thread, I didn’t want to run out of it and so the interior seams are sewn with a more purple thread. The serging is done in brown, because that’s the closest neutral that I had cones of. It blends with the grey facings/pockets to create what appears to be an intentional ‘design choice’!

The pants close with a lapped zipper at center back.

The Zipper Saga

Oh, and that’s a story! So I bought a zipper, set it in, and was so excited!

I tried on my pants and showed them off to Mr. Q (who wasn’t particularly impressed, because vintage styles don’t really appeal to him). I went to take off the pants so I could finish them off and couldn’t get the zipper undone… I was stuck! And they’re fitted pants at the top, so it wasn’t like I could shimmy out of them. I tried to pick a few stitches, but couldn’t see what I was doing, because the zipper is at the center back, and I was afraid I’d poke myself instead of the pants, or rip a hole instead of picking stitches… I had to go back to Mr. Q and get his help seam ripping the zipper enough that I could get out of the pants! He thought it was hysterical. I don’t know that I completely agree with that… though it is more amusing after the fact.

After managing to get the pants off, I took this photo to document the debacle.

Then the offending zipper was completely removed. I reset it, thinking that I’d stitched too close to the teeth and that was the problem, and it still didn’t work (I tested it out without putting the pants on the second time!). I doubled checked that I didn’t sew too close to the teeth the second time and that didn’t seem to be the problem. I don’t know what the issue was because I’ve set many zippers and haven’t had this problem and this zipper works just fine when not attached to a garment. Horrible thing–it was sternly put away and may never be used again!

The solution was that I went out to a different store and bought a new zipper. It actually matches much better, though it is a regular zipper as opposed to an invisible one. Most importantly, it works as it’s supposed to! So all is well in the end.

Here is a view of the back of the pants, showing the new zipper, darts, interior finishing, and waistband closure.

Other Inspiration

As I was looking for inspiration for these pants, I was reminded of fabulous wide leg pants made/patterned by other wonderful bloggers. These were all indirect inspiration for my pants.

Lauren Stowell’s 1970s does 1930s Wide Leg Pants 

Caroline’s Vacation Pants (made from the pattern below)

Wearing History’s Smooth Sailing Trousers pattern

Final Thoughts

My new pants are super comfortable to wear. The fabric is stable and yet lightweight enough to flow nicely. The waistband is suitably substantial and does not crease when I sit for extended periods.

The pockets are great! They make a statement that elevates the pants to being stylish (vintage stylish, of course!) and I patterned them to be big enough to easily store my phone and other essentials–so helpful!

One final photo and story for you… I took these photos in my yard without help, so I needed to figure out a way to stabilize my camera and easily maneuver it around my yard. Prior to this, I’d clamped it to a ladder, but the ladder was heavy to move around, so for this photo session I decided to clamp my phone to my lawn mower handle. Yes–lawn mower! It worked pretty well–easy to roll around the yard, but occasionally my phone would slip and I would get a series of photos of the ground and the lawn mower handle! Any neighbors that saw me probably wondered what I was up to!

Added to the challenge was the fact that I didn’t feel like putting contacts in, so I would leave my glasses on the lawn mower, set the timer on my phone, and then run to my chosen marker to stand for the photos. I have pretty terrible eyesight, so I can’t see the timer on my phone once I stand away from it. That plus the bright sun (it was a hot day!) made for a lot of squinting. 

This outtake photo is one of the ones that didn’t make the cut (except to be amusing)–squinting as I walk back towards my lawn mower camera setup!

Vernet Project: Silly Shoes

One of the five pieces of my Vernet Project was creating the silly up-turned-toe elf shoes in the fashion plate. Clearly, these are not shoes that could be purchased, as they are so specific in style, so I set out to make my own!

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In the beginning, I was thankful to have another Vernet project maker’s experience making her boots before mine to work from. Jenni posted a two part tutorial showing how she made her boots as well as sharing information behind-the-scenes with project participants earlier in the process (Part 1 and Part 2). She closely referenced Every Lady Her Own Shoemaker, published in 1855 (a little late relative to the date of the project, but still useful for construction advice), for construction methods and carefully documented her process. In fact, she did a much better job at documenting the actual sewing than I did… I also read Anna’s information about making mid-19th century shoes multiple times to help get my mind acquainted with the project (again, a little later than the period of the project, but still helpful). She also has lots of great construction pictures.

I started by creating a pattern for my shoe using patterns in Every Lady Her Own Shoemaker. Given that my shoe has the unusual turned-up-toe, I necessarily needed to make adjustments to the general slipper pattern. Here is my shoe at the mockup stage. The upper pieces fit pretty well! I adjusted the width of the sole as well as the shape of the turned-up section before moving on to cut out the final pieces.

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Here are all of the final pieces cut out and ready to assemble. The soles have three layers: heavier tan leather for the outer sole, cardboard for the inner sole structure, and white linen to cover the cardboard insole. The uppers have two layers: lightweight raspberry leather for the exterior and white linen for the interior. Later in the process I also added a faux fur cuff.

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To help the shoes keep their turned-up-toe shape I soaked the leather soles in water, taped them to a lysol wipe container, and let them dry. You can see the results below. Not perfectly curved up, but still helpful. I also tried boiling leather soles to thicken them before shaping, but found that the leather shrank unevenly which created soles that wouldn’t work for this project. I did save them, though, and hopefully will get to use them for a future shoe making endeavor. I repeated the soaking and shaping for the cardboard insoles before gluing the linen to them. There’s a picture of the insoles at this stage in this past post.

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After shaping the soles it was time to construct the uppers. I did the interior and exterior separately, then basted them together around the top opening and around the bottoms. Then I sewed the bottom edges of the uppers to the soles, using the slanting stitch through the side of the sole that Jenni shows in Part 2 of her tutorial. She used all sorts of nifty leather tools as well as a wooden last during construction. I purchased the nifty leather tools but found that they didn’t work for me and a simple non-leather needle worked just fine. (I think my leather was too thin and soft for these to be needed). As for the last, I looked online for a wooden one, never found one in my size foot, and eventually decided to give it a go without one, especially since I had to do the turned-up toe. In the end, I don’t think it was a problem not to have a last.

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Once the soles were attached, I bound the front slit with matching silk ribbon. Then I cut a piece of faux fur for each shoe that went around just the top of the foot opening and could double over on itself. There are non-functional silk ribbon loops that are sewn to the front of the fur that encases the top edge of the shoe. The shoes actually close with a twill tape threaded through hand sewn eyelets on each side of the opening.

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They’re actually quite comfortable for walking around in. I have very flat feet, so don’t really need arch support to be comfortable. The only thing is that my feet did get cold during our photoshoot due to the freezing ground only separated from my feet by a few thin layers of fabric. So, for the second wearing, while caroling at Christmastime, I added a faux fur insole. Problem solved! They were toasty and even more comfortable!

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Interestingly, witzchouras are mentioned as being popular in Paris during the year 1827 by La Belle Assembleé, after a mention of other popular pelisses and mantles (well worth checking out!), and are are described as being worn with boots laced in front and with fur around the leg.

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Doesn’t that description sound oddly familiar? It reminds me so very much of the Vernet fashion plate and my silly shoes!

HSF #1: The Make Do Shift

The first challenge of the Historical Sew Fortnightly (HSF) 2014 is Make Do And Mend. At the start of January, none of my in-progress projects qualified, unfortunately, and while I wanted to get started on the right foot for the HSF 2014 and not miss the challenge, I also didn’t want to make something just to make something. I don’t need more stuff with no purpose and it’s hard to stay motivated on a project if you’re doing it “just because.” So I racked my brain trying to think of what would work for the challenge and be useful, without taking too much time. I settled on the idea of turning a gifted partially finished linen man’s shirt into an 18th century shift suitable for the mid-to-late 18th century. That just happens to be the period my 18th century court gown will be from at some point this year. Useful! I made an 18th century shift a few years ago, but it’s actually late 18th century/Regency, with short sleeves, which really isn’t appropriate for the rest of the century. This new shift will sort of work for the entire century, though the sleeves aren’t really full enough to be entirely accurate for the first half.

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1750-1790 shift

All of the seams are flat felled. The neck is narrow hemmed. It’s pretty accurate, though I did have to add center front and center back seams, which is not usual for these garments. Those seams are due to the fact that the shift was super wide after I cut it out because I had to deal with the neck opening of the partially sewn shirt, and that was gathered into the neck, so was super full. There was just way more fabric than was needed, so I seamed it and kept the extra with the other scraps I had. I’m sure they’ll get used someday! It’s very nice, light linen.

The facts:

Fabric: Linen reused from a partially completed man’s 18th century shirt.

Pattern: I used Mara Riley’s 18th century shift draft to cut my pieces, though I had to make some adjustments given that I didn’t start with fabric yardage.

Year: Loosely 1750-1790.

Notions: Thread.

How historically accurate?: It’s 100% hand sewn using 18th century stitches and cut in the manner of an 18th century shift, so lots of points for that. I probably should loose a few points for using polyester thread. The only other odd thing is that I have seams up center front and center back, but they did piece a lot in the 18th century, so it’s not totally out of the realm of possibility, given that this challenge is Make Do and Mend. I give it 90%.

Hours to complete: 10-15 maybe? I didn’t really keep track.

First worn: By the hanger. I probably won’t wear this until I have more things to wear with it!

Total cost: Free!

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!

May Fabric Stash Additions

I’ve been trying to be good about not buying more fabric… but sometimes things are just too good to pass up, or an event comes along that requires new clothes! I think I last bought fabric in January, so that’s a pretty good few months of no-new-fabric.

I wasn’t even looking for this fabric! But I happened upon this great red/pink/brown cotton chintz and couldn’t get it out of my mind. In the end, I decided I would regret it if I didn’t buy it. And there you are. I’m thinking of perhaps an 1790s/1800ish open robe eventually. The other two fabrics wouldn’t have been bought on their own, but with the chintz already being purchased… I tacked them on to the order. There is a small bit of the cherry red linen, to make a 1740s jacket some day, and a bit of that blueish cotton/linen blend. I was hoping it would be more teal colored, but it’s not. So it might get relegated to lining something else.

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Later in the month, I was on a grand search to find fabric for an 1860s cotton dress and came across this fabulous light teal stripey fabric for $1/yd. I’m calling it the elusive blue green fabric in my head, because that color is sort of hard to find and I’ve been inspired lately to find it. At $1/yd I couldn’t pass it up!

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The pictures don’t really do it justice. I’m thinking of making a new Regency evening gown using it and perhaps a 1906ish evening gown some day as well. I bought that similarly colored lining to go with the stripy for the 1906ish evening gown, because at $1/yd in the right color it’s just meant to be, even if it is polyester. I’m not sure what the fabric content of the stripy fabric is, but I’m guessing it’s probably man-made…

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Lastly, I’ll be performing in another 1920s dance event next weekend during the day and I needed a 20s day dress. I wanted it to be washable and I didn’t have any appropriate fabrics in my stash. There weren’t a lot of options that I liked, but in the end I went with this royal blue cotton lawn swiss dot. The dress will have white accents on it (and is looking rather sailor-like, despite that not being my intent). I have to just claim the sailor look so I don’t feel foolish in it.

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HSF #3: Silk Pockets

I’ve been sewing up a storm this weekend! (And yes, pun intended, since I was stuck inside all weekend because of the blizzard ‘Nemo’… and as a side note, do you think they saw the irony in naming this storm Nemo? All I think of is a cute cartoon fish, which seems at odds with the 2 1/2 feet of snow that is still being cleaned up outside as I create this post.)

Anyway… events were cancelled, including the Regency Ball I created my 1813 dress (HSF #1) for, which is rather sad. Not being able to go anywhere means I’ve had lots of time to work on other things, though. Mostly, I’ve spent the time working on my replacement of the berry ballroom dancing dress. I was hoping to move along on my new 1864 ball gown as well, but that didn’t happen because I was so inspired to keep working on the ballroom dress (and I made lots of progress, so that’s good!). I did take some time out of my furious sewing to finish up my new silk pockets, just in time for the deadline of the Historical Sew Fortnightly’s Challenge #3: Under It All.

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Yay! Pockets!

For the facts:

Fabric: Silk brocade scraps left over from my 1780s stays and linen scraps left over from my 1812 regency chemise.

Pattern: From Costume Close-Up.

Year: The year in Costume Close-Up is 1740-1770, but I think these can be used for years spanning almost the entirety of the 18th century.

Notions: About 2 yds of 1/4″ persimmon colored silk ribbon and about 1 yd of 1/4″ white cotton twill tape for ties.

How historically accurate?: I give them a 95% rating. Accurate fabrics, accurate piecing, accurate pattern, no machine sewing… Thread choice is not accurate, and I’m not convinced that the stitches I used to attach my edging ribbon are accurate either. (And I probably should have tea dyed my waist tie so it wouldn’t be so bright white… but I am the only person who is likely to see it, and frankly, I just wanted to attach it and be done.)

Hours to complete: Entirely hand sewn, so about 13 hours.

First worn: They haven’t been worn yet, and probably won’t be worn for awhile… but at least now they’re done, and ready to go for next time I need them!

Total cost: $7? If I count the cost of all the bits and pieces. Since they use scraps from other projects it’s hard to tell.

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Back view. You can see the linen backing. The silk on the front has a second layer of linen under it.

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Close-up of the tiny stitches holding the ribbon down along the edges.

A future project: 18th Century Pockets

For the last month, I have been pondering the idea of making 18th century pockets. It was my idea to wear them to an 18th century ball and use them  as a place to store my modern items (cell phone, credit card, cash, car keys, etc.). I was thinking of making simple linen ones, without embroidery, but once I started researching them I realized that I really wanted to go the full distance. In this case, the full distance meant hand sewn silk embroidery… The realization hit me just a few days before the ball that this plan was flawed. There was no way I was going to complete hand embroidered pockets in the time I had left. My choices: to fudge it and be stressed out while trying to complete hand embroidery with cotton thread or to wait, source my products and make a plan, and enjoy my time hand embroidering. What to do? Well, I decided to do the latter and I am glad to say that I am thankful to have used common sense and avoided stress! For now, the plan to make pockets has been added to my list of things to make in my leisure sewing time (when other, more time sensitive projects are lacking… Does that ever happen???). These charming pink, green, and blue ones are my goal.

Early 1700s pockets, linen embroidered with silk, trimmed with silk ribbon and with silk ties (V and A)

Pockets in the 18th century were often made of linen and elaborately embroidered in colorful silk or wool thread, as with the example above and the following examples. Aren’t these yellow trimmed ones adorable? It looks like the pocket slits are smiling!

Mid-1700s pockets, linen embroidered with silk, trimmed with silk and with silk and linen ties (Manchester City Galleries)

This next pair of pockets has beautiful (and intense) embroidery.

Mid-1700s pockets, linen embroidered with wool, with linen ties (Worthing Museum and Art Gallery)

This next pocket has a lovely embroidered pattern that looks much simpler to replicate than the previous examples. This is my back up plan if the other, more complicated embroidery proves to be too much.

1718-1720 pocket, linen embroidered with silk, with linen ties (V and A)

The pockets with unfinished red embroidery are an excellent example of pocket construction. You can see the manner in which the design is marked as well as the embroidery being completed prior to the pocket being cut out and assembled.

1718-1720 pockets, linen with silk embroidery, the pattern drawn in ink (V and A)

There are also some pockets constructed of silk, such as these, below. These pockets were acquired with a quilted silk petticoat and the Victoria and ALbert Museum assumes that they were intended to be worn together. They look puffy and super cute, but because they are assumed to have such a specific purpose I don’t think they are the right idea for me. Also, I wouldn’t get to embroider!

Mid-1700s pockets, silk with silk ribbon (V and A)

Pockets continued to be used in the 19th century, but they were often constructed of cotton rather than linen and were not as elaborately embroidered as in the pervious century. Some 19th century pockets were constructed of cottons with woven patterns, such as stripes or diamonds as well as the occasional pocket of satin weave cotton fabric. In the middle of the century embroidery was again used as decoration, though the motifs were changed from the 18th century. These next few pockets are just a few 19th century ones I like, either because they use interesting fabrics, or because they are smiling at you!

Late 1800s pockets, twill weave cotton (Oxfordshire Museum Service)

I like this one especially, because it really does look like a smiley face pocket! Early 1800s pockets, ribbed cotton, with cotton tape (Cheltenham Art Gallery and Museum)

Early-mid-1800s pockets, satin weave cotton (Maidstone Museum and Bentlif Art Gallery)

early 1800s pockets, figured silk satin, trimmed with silk (Cheltenham Art Gallery and Museum)

Do you have a favorite pocket amongst these? Does any pair stand out to you?

All of these pockets were recently available at here, at VADS: the online resource for visual arts; however, VADS appears to no longer be operable (perhaps because of recent US government action to curtail internet copyright infringement?).   Alternatively, the Victoria and Albert Museum has a pretty good selection of pockets, including some of the ones featured on VADS.