The Magic of Bust Padding Improves the Fit of a Victorian Bodice

As some of you know, I made an 1870 day dress back in 2012-13 from Truly Victorian  patterns TV201 and TV400, with an overskirt drafted from a pattern given in Peterson's Magazine, January 1869, as well as the TV108 Grand Bustle. 

To date it is the only First Bustle era dress I've made, and while TV patterns are excellent and I had the help of two original mid-Victorian dresses then in my collection to use for construction assistance, I made some novice mistakes that haunted the dress so that on the Fit-O-Meter it never hit more than "meh...".

Now's the time to rectify the issues as much as I'm able. It has become the year of the refit anyhow, and I am still working out kinks with the 1895 wired and hairclothed petticoat.

The first fix: adding bust padding. Often called bust pads, the padding helps to smooth out the fit of a bodice and prevent the sudden dip or heavy horizontal wrinkling just above the bustline that can occur when wearing a corset, especially as a woman grows older. They're not augmenting the main body of the bust, but the space above and to the side of it. Added to a bodice, they often look like the first pads I added, below.

The bodice inside out, with bust pads, version 1, in the first position I had them.

How the Bodice Fitted Before the Pads

Look at the photo below. What do you notice about the bodice's fit?

Okay, besides the fact that the bottom hook and eye is left open. I was dashing to try it on. Did you notice that on your -- the viewer's -- left, that the bust fit is smooth while on the right there is a crease where the bust hits a hollowing of the upper chest above the corset? I am holding my arms in the same way on both sides, so it's not my position.

What caused the difference? The magic of bust pads, of course, or to be exact, the magic of one bust pad. The bodice was tried on to see if the pad I had just made worked, and yes, it did. After the photo, I was off to make the other so as not to appear lopsided.

The bodice used to fit even less well. Here it is the first time I wore the dress, in 2013:

Oh my, the poor bodice 
doesn't fit at all.

What happened? While the bodice was fitted over a toile, the issues were baked in from the get-go... If you look carefully, the tell-tale folds are there. 

Serious Christopher
wanted to be in the picture.

At that time I mentioned adding pads, but when the second fitting came around, I had forgotten about them, and also had the hubris to try the bodice on sans corset. Of course you're not going to see what's wrong when you're not wearing the proper undergarments...a rookie mistake.

I thought it fit then,
but no, it didn't.

So, main points so far:

• bust padding fills in weird hollows above the bust that occur with some women when they wear a corset;
• always do your fittings with the proper undergarments;
• if you can, write down the steps in making your bodice, so that you don't forget to do something -- like add padding -- in the heat of making.

Got that? Let's move on.

Making the Bust Pads, Version 1

Following directions in Elizabeth Stewart Clark's The Dressmaker's Guide: 1840-1865, I cut pieces of thinnish cotton batting in concentric pieces, laid them atop one another, and tacked them together. The pad is sized to fill in the hollow between the bust and my shoulder. Then I made a cover out of scraps of muslin, and slipped the pad into it. The shape is an elongated semi-circle because the pad stops at the armscye, but your shape may vary...it all depends on where the hollow of your chest is sitting and how big and deep it is.

Four-layer pad tacked together, next to the little cover that 
I've just stitched together with combination stitch.

The cover is turned right side out and the pad is slipped inside.

Then the cover is overcast closed.

Here is the pad laid on top of the bodice so you can see relatively where it will sit, from the bustline up towards the shoulder, and from almost the armscye inwards. The flat side will sit next to the wearer, while the gently mounded side will sit against the bodice to shape it.

Then I pinned it in place inside the bodice, tested it by putting on corset and bodice, tweaked the position a bit, and then tacked it in place, catching only the bodice lining with each stitch.

Here is the pad being overcast to the bodice lining
using large stitches.

Here is where we were after the first try-on with the new pads:

Well, the issue wasn't solved on one side. I clearly needed more padding, and you know, it needed to sit further out to the armscye and go further up towards the shoulder.

Why do I say that? You shall learn.

Bust Pads and Padding in 19th Century Dresses

Padding out the hollow of the bust was common in Victorian clothing. If you spend enough time on Etsy looking for antique bodices for sale, you are sure to spot examples of padding in photos of the interiors.

When I brought up the success of the padding on the Truly Victorian Pattern Sewists FB group, Felicity Rackstraw, a fellow member of that group, was truly kind and gave me her perspective as someone who collects antique clothing and who has worked in London's famous bespoke clothing district, Savile Row.

"Padding is a wonderful thing. I used to work for a Savile Row tailor..." she wrote. "At work, we habitually padded areas for clients. Fixing uneven shoulders, broadening shoulders, lifting sloping shoulders, smoothing out a hollow chest, smoothing out back curvature or scoliosis. It is no different to padded shorts now to lift or boost a flat booty, or a padded bra. Only the aesthetic has changed."

If you've had qualms about padding, the above should have dispelled them. They're normal.

She showed photos of a once-glorious late 1880s-to-early-1890s silk lavender jacket and explained, "I have extant garments with it, this is one... the maker has put the padding inside the lining on this one, you can just about see the wool padding where I have lifted the silk away from where it is shattered."

The wool padding tacked in place with creamy white thread
between the fashion fabric and the lining.
Image courtesy Felicity Rackstraw.

As she said, "the lavender jacket is padded from the shoulders down to the bust inside the lining; there are no pads added 'after the event', as it were." In this case, then, the wool padding was added during initial construction of the jacket, thus rendering the padding invisible inside. No one need know it was there.

Here is the jacket as a whole.

Jacket front. Image courtesy Felicity Rackstraw.

Padding peeping out. Image courtesy
Felicity Rackstraw.

She and I traded comments on the FB post, and later on Messenger. A specialist vintage reproduction dressmaker, she owns Esme's Vintage Closet in Stoke-on-Trent in England, and maintains a Facebook presence at https://www.facebook.com/esmesvintagecloset/. We had a delightful chat, and I am grateful for her insights.

Bust Padding, Version 2

I started over. This time I cut a pattern in paper that covered, like Felicity's bodice, from shoulder right out to the armscye. Then I cut scraps in batting and layered them. Whoopsie, I layered them such that the smaller pieces come inwards towards my bust, not outwards towards the fashion fabric. Backwards mounding. No matter, it ended up not making a difference.

Cutting the pattern.

Layering the padding. 

Not perfect yet. This time, I marked 
the wrinkle with pins. The
rest of the padding looked a little
much up near the shoulder. 

Aha!  See the pins I am pointing towards?
The wrinkle is below the padding!

Well. I had set my test padding too far up. Remember what Felicity Rackstraw said about adding padding where it was needed? I had added too much as well as misplaced it.

The patterning and pad-building was repeated.

This time, as you can see,
The padding runs into the armscye,
but doesn't climb all the way to the
shoulder. 

Here is the final effect, below. 

The bodice fits smoothly at last!

The padding worked -- perhaps even too well. The bodice fits much more smoothly now. I might take a layer of padding out in the section up towards the shoulder and not close to the armscye where it might be a tad too much. In any case, am very pleased to have learned the technique. 

By the way, you can see that the removable fichu-collar that's tacked to the dres consists of two sides that pin together at bottom with a bow to cover the join. Here, the bow has not been put on.

I am hopeful that you found the above helpful. Once again, let's review:

• Mark the position of the wrinkles in your bodice from the outside.
• Match the positioning of your padding to where the wrinkles are, and shape it accordingly. The padding certainly doesn't have to be round. Shape it to add smoothness where it's needed.
• Pin in place and test as needed. Your first go may not be the last one.

Other Tweaks to the Dress

The dress still needs work, I think. Here are pictures from Hallowe'en and from the last few days.

The bodice has a horizontal wrinkle across the back and there is wrinkling below the bust in front. Usually that means it might be a little too long. In this case, I think it's because the bodice has hiked up a little; it has done that each time I have worn it. The solution? I will add boning in the seams and add large, heavy hooks and eyes that attach the bodice and the skirt together. Combined, the bodice should stay where I want it. If that doesn't work, by golly I will add a waist stay inside that hooks closed, tightly.

The side view makes me wonder about the sleeves. Are they a bit full? Coat sleeves were meant to be loose, but this loose? Research is in order. 

The overskirt pouf is governed by how tightly three sets of thin silk ribbons are tied. Let's tighten the ribbons and raise the tripartite pouf higher.

The Halloween costume.

The hat is delightful. It's an equine dressage hat, a gorgeous vintage thing. The plume is meant to be outre for Halloween. 

In the front, I wish there was less wrinkling in the overskirt "wings" at the top of the overskirt. Memo: investigate what's causing it. Might I need to add another flounce to the petticoat, this one ending only partway down to fill things out? Am already wearing the grand bustle with back flounces and a petticoat made with a large flounce all the way around.

Finally, the unrelieved black of the trim has long bothered me. Perhaps I should make a bias band of the fashion fabric and work it in. Right now the puffing and the flounce are covered with black bias bands.

So there we are. Returning when all this is done; that may be after the holidays. Meantime, all safety and health to you and wishing peace to all. For those in the U.S., happy Thanksgiving.

An Early 1870s Flounced Bustle: Dress Diary

The Bustle: Essential Underpinning for a Dolly Varden Ensemble

Having Dolly Varden dresses on the brain, I decided to make a Dolly Varden ensemble. One essential component is the bustle. This underpinning gives the all-important extended, poufed back.

Photo: the completed bustle...

Unlike the 1880s bustle, which was an aggressive shelf-like structure, the first bustle era silhouette is a large, soft, bunchy pouf. While you can make a bustle for this era using a small conical hoop plus a separate small bustle tied on top, many bustles were constructed in one piece. The one I am almost finished with is one of these: the pattern is TV 108, the Grand Bustle. Like so many seamstresses who have made up a bustle using this pattern, I found it superb.

Image: TV 108, the Grand Bustle, from Truly Victorian.

The below is a dress diary detailing the construction.
I won't go through each step, because the pattern is so clearly written, but will detail spots where I used specific techniques to get the best result or where you have to watch what you're doing.

Cutting Out

The bustle pattern comes in just a few pieces, well matched and well marked. Make sure you place ALL markings on your pattern; since you will be sewing a curved garment, it would be a pain to put the markings on after you seamed up the garment.

A Note on the Sewing Machine

I used an early 20th century Willcox and Gibbs chain stitch sewing machine, electric. The machine produces a fine, perfectly straight, elastic stitch, and the attachments produce high-quality hems, tucks, ruffles, and so on. Further, the design is so cool: it's such a pretty thing. This machine is nearly mint, and was loaned by my sweet friend Johnny: I love it and have named it Laura, because it's elegant and conservative: the W&G never changed its design much. If it works, why alter it?

Image: sewing seams on the Willcox and Gibbs in my mother's back garden

Stitching Flat-Felled Seams

The first steps are to stitch the front pieces together properly.

I used flat-felled seams on this garment, which show on the exterior, like a pair of jeans. They are strong seams since they're composed of two lines of stitching, and the raw edges are entirely covered so they can never fray. They're also smooth: there's no seam allowance sticking out.

Here's how to make them:

Stitch the seam per normal, right sides together. Unless you want to work with very small seams, which is possible but a tad fiddly, use a 1/2 inch seam allowance. Press seam open.

Trim one seam allowance to a scant 1/4 inch.


Press the edge of the remaining seam allowance inwards just over 1/4 inch. I finger pressed it.


Pin neatly in place...

...and if you're picky like me, baste.

Then topstitch along the edge you just turned in. Voila! The completed seam. If you look carefully, you can see the basting just below the top line of stitching.

Note: I could have used one of the Willcox and Gibbs hemmers to do the felling, but chose to stitch it manually. It's not perfect, but it's pretty straight.

Stitching on the Boning Channels

The next steps involve applying the channels in which the boning will be inserted to the back panel.

The pattern calls for 1-inch single-fold bias tape to be used to create the channels. Like at least one other person who has recently made the bustle, I could only find 7/8-inch bias tape, and used it without a problem.

The pattern directions do not say how much of an allowance to top-stitch the boning on with: I used 1/8 of an inch.

Most of the boning channels are sewn to the outside of the bustle. However, one is sewn inside, and its channel intersects some of the channels outside. Remember to start and stop the stitching on this bone so that it doesn't go over the exterior channels!

Photo: boning channel for bone number 7, on the interior of the bustle. Note how the stitching starts and stops over the stitching for the other boning channel (on the outside of the bustle).

Here's the back panel with its channels:


Adding the Ruffles!

After almost all the boning channels were added, it was time to add the ruffles that fluff out the bustle back. That process was fun!

According to Heather McNaughton of Truly Victorian, there are many ways to sew on the ruffles. Among them:

• You can sew them down right side to right side. Since only the top ruffle's stitching connecting it to the back panel shows, the rest being hidden by the ruffles just above them.
• You can sew them wrong side to right side (that means that the ruffles are upside down when you sew them on) and flip them down to hide the join.

The latter is what I did. Because I used a 1/2-inch header at the top of each gathered flounce, and hemmed the edge, the header has body to it, and when the flounce is sewn down, the header, now underneath next to the seam, creates a bit of extra body and lift to the flounce. I like that!

To make the flounces, first I seamed all the strips together to make what seemed like a mile of fabric.

Then, I narrow-hemmed each long edge of the flouncing. I used the Willcox and Gibbs' narrow hemmer. It produces a superb 1/8-inch hem. Look at the pictures of the gathered flounces to see the hem.

Photo: miles of flouncing being hemmed.

Note: when using a hemming attachment, the hemmer will often get stuck at vertical seams where strips are joined. To get over that problem, cut a long, steep nick off the edge of the seam allowance joining the strips. This gets rid of the bumpy join so that the hemmer won't get clogged.


Photo: nick cut from seam allowance of a seam joining two flounce strips.

After that, I used the W&G's "Improved Ruffler" attachment to produce the 2:1 ruffling. Again, that was fun!

Here are the ruffler and its original box:


Here the machine is ruffling. Again, miles of ruffles!


Here is the result. You can see the narrow hem on the inside of the ruffle header:


Then I applied the ruffles to the back panel. To make sure I had enough ruffles, and to make sure they were applied straight, I basted ruffling from the strip on, and then cut the ruffle from the rest of the strip only when I had reached the end of the row that ruffle was to be sewn onto. Then I stitched each ruffle down, the line of stitching being just outside (towards the header edge of the fabric) of the gathering stitches, again to keep the maximum amount of gathering fullness: I didn't want to flatten any ruffling! The long stitches are the hand-sewn basting stitches.


Photo: Ruffle sewn wrong side to right side (that means ruffle is upside down until flipped over) the gathering stitches are the chain stitches; the stitching to the back panel looks like a regular stitch, although it's a chain stitch too, just seen from the front side.

Here's the first row of ruffing, completed. Because the ruffle is fairly tightly gathered, the ruffle header is full, and its position underneath the ruffle really helps the ruffle to stand out:


Sewing Bustle Panels Together

Once the ruffles were applied, it was time to sew the panels together to pull together the bustle structure.

The pattern instructions tell you to "catch" the ruffles into the edges of the side seams. To do that neatly, I basted them first. Plus, catching the entire second-to-lowest ruffle to the side seam would prevent proper positioning of where you need to put the final bone channel in (a later step). So, I pulled the latter half out of the way (it will get hand-whipped to the seam as a finishing touch).


Photo: Basting the second to last ruffle away from the edge that will be seamed. The pencilled lines mark the last ruffle as well as boning channel number 5. Note that had I caught the lower edge of the ruffle in with the seam, I couldn't have sewn the last ruffle on properly.

Because you have all the ruffle layers and boning channel layers and so on at the seam edges when you sew the side seams, it's a good plan to smooth everything into place and pin it so that nothing bunches up when you sew the side seams.


Photo: Stitching one of the side seams. Note how I have the layers of fabric pinned to hold them in place, so they won't creep and get caught in the stitching by mistake.

Here are the front and back of the seamed-up bustle! After these photos were taken, the next steps were to add the final boning channels and to pleat the waist and apply the waistband.

Photo: back of the seamed-up bustle.


Photo: front of the seamed-up bustle. Note that the placket is right at center front.

Adding the Final Boning Channels and Waistband

This was straightforward, with nothing out of the way to worry about.

Adding the Boning

Uh-oh, here is where I had my -- temporary -- Waterloo. As I wrote the folks at Truly Victorian:

Dear folks,

Am so proud of my new bustle, but it's a tad deflated...the bustle, I mean...because the top 4 bones refuse to go in!

Left a 3/4" opening (actually, a little more) per row as directed, but not necessarily at near the outer edge of the rows of boning channels.

So when I go to put in the bones, said bones aren't flexible enough to bend to the degree needed to worm the second end into the channel after the first end is set in: the bone gets into a tight U shape and the fabric gets so tight that nothing goes anywhere. I rather dented bone #1 trying to get it to go in, for example, and have really stressed the bustle stitching there :}

What do I do?

Close up the current openings and open some stitching down near the end of each row? That's rather where the picture has the opening set but at the time, I didn't pay exact attention.

Yipes!!

Heather wrote back:

Yep, sew up the hole you have, and make a new one at an end of the chanel. It's the only way to get them in. Actually, you probably don't even need to sew the old one up. The bone won't slip out, just like you can't get it in. So rip a few stitches out on the end, slip the bone in, and stitch it back up again.

I know there is another pattern out there that has you leave a hole in the middle. But that doesn't work, and people have told me about their trials with the idea.

So, that's what I did. Now the bustle is completed (except for a bit of seam finishing, a hand-sewing project), and I am very, very happy with it.

The Completed Bustle

Here's the front of the bustle:


The bustle fabric isn't particularly stretched tight over the hoops, and that's as it should be, says Heather. She says ease is necessary, so that the hoop lines won't be prominent and liable to show through the outer skirt.

Here's a side view:


Here's a back view:

Phew! Now, on to a petticoat...