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.

Making a Fichu-Collar: Tutorial for a Useful Early Bustle-Era Whatsit

Fichu-collar or collarette with bow
pinned in place

Several of you -- Laura and Marion and Caroline, I am looking at you:} -- have commented about the removable fichu-collar that I added to the 1870 bustle dress. You're right, Marion, costumers don't seem to use them much for bustle dresses, and I am not sure why, because they're so useful.

Removable collars were common throughout the 19th century, or at least from the Romantic era forward. At their base they were a functional item meant to protect a dress neckline from inevitable oils and perspiration. Yet if you had only a few dresses, by changing out your collars you could vary the look of your ensemble, and show off your needlework skills into the bargain. Pretty good deal, I say.

Collars fluffed up and complexified themselves with multiple layers of lace and ribbon by the late 1860s, a part of the general elaboration of women's dress. In some photographs you see women wearing, all at once:

• lace tacked inside the dress collar, rather like a tucker
• fancy large collar at the edge of the neckline
• ribbon bow at the collar bottom
• brooch or other closure aid
• one or more necklaces
• long dangly earrings
• curls dangling down from the hairdo, and probably entangling with the jewelry: ow!

Here are a few examples. There are literally hundreds of them on Flickr and other photo sites, if you have a look around.

Hungarian lady, around 1870. Huge collar. From valtertorjay

Ida M. Hamlin around 1870. From ilgunmkr/ Fichu style, having
crossed tails.

How fluffy and large collars could be, in Europe, anyhow. Ladies in Pilzen,
Czech Republic.  From josefnovak33

Here's a squared collar.  Photo taken in Kansas, early 1870s. From ilgunmkr.

Gah, that's a lot going on around the neck. If you're at least my age, do you remember the sixties and seventies, when some elderly ladies sported multiple link necklaces, earrings, worn with a fur or other elaborated collar, and if outdoors, a hat? I could hear them coming, and was rather in awe of them :}

By the way, there were plenty of other collar-y sorts of decor one could adorn one's neckline with. Some women preferred dress trim for the large effect, confining lacey trim to lace tucked inside the neckline, lightly gathered. This could be the case when ruching was used heavily on the bodice, or a collar with revers.

Lappets, if that's the right name for them, were also popular, and you see them on Etsy now and again, and also in the magazines. They're just long lengths of lace, with rounded ends, run round the neck and pinned shut with brooch or brooch and bow.

In this case, the collar is probably actually a lappet brought round the neck,
and held, with an added bow, by what appears to be an articulated brooch.
From ookami-dou.

Then there was just wearing a little old collar, or the tried-and-true bow, or a jabot. Lots of options.

Small collar and bow. I wonder if that ribbon is made of a piece of
fabric pinked with a curved pinker? Notice her drop earrings and snood.
From Dan around town.

Designs

If you're looking for designs, ladies' magazines of the era are happy hunting grounds, and some contain directions for making them up, that is, sewing them. Here are a few examples:

Bodices, some with applied collars. De Gracieuse, Feb. 1870



Fichu-collar and fichus, extra fluffy.  Harper's Bazar , August 1871

Designs, and their names, varied quite a bit as much as dress designs did. Fichu-collar was a name that turned up quite frequently, at least in Harper's Bazar. The name referred to the partial resemblance of the collar to a fichu, that is, a very long scarf or neckerchief hung round the neck, crossed in front, and sent back behind the waist, where it was often tied in a bow and the tails left to flutter. (N.B. Such items were known as cloaks in the very late 18th century. I wrote three posts on them in 2011, when I made one for a 1790s ensemble.)

Now for embarassment: whence the name collarette? I have lost my citation! When I find it, will amend this post. Ah, documentation fails sometimes. That's why I am calling this a fichu-collar throughout this post.

The fichu-collar often formed a vee-neck, as in the examples above. Why do we not see more vee necks among costumers for bustle dresses? They were probably more common than the perennial costumer favorite, the square open neck, attractive though that is. An open, low neckline was, to my understanding, more an evening thing; during the day one would fill that in! Ribbon bows were very commonly worn with these collars. They finish the effect, of course, and are another 18th century reference, but had been also favorite collar decorations for the past decades, so why give them up?

Sometimes these collars were just called fichus, and might have short tails (as in the Harper's page above), but not really be actual long fichus, although those had existed as well, in lace or net, to be swathed around the lucky wearer, particularly at the end of the 1860s. I refer you to Harper' s Bazar for those, and especially to Frances Grimble's Reconstruction Era Fashions, since she includes scaled patterns for them. By the 1870s, there was so much going on around the skirt, what with the bustle and all, that throwing a fichu into the back ornamentation was too much for even that ueber-decorated period.

Anyhow, as you can see if you squint at the pictures or go look at De Gracieuse or Harper's, Godey's or Peterson's, etc. etc.  lace or eyelet embroidery, was a primary feature of these collars. Frequently multiple laces were layered together, sometimes integrated with ribbon. Tulle was another favored material for making them.  (By the way, if you're interested in finding full-text magazines, check the Full Text Fashion Magazines page on this blog. When I find new issues of interest, I list them there.)

Here are three from Harper's, March 4, 1871. Here they're all called fichus, even the one on the right that actually mimics a squared dress neckline. Nomenclature, it's so specific when it comes to fashion, isn't it? The first uses puffed tulle and lace, the second lace insertion, Swiss muslin and lace, and the last white pleated tulle and lace.

The Inspiration Fichu-Collar from Der Bazar

Let's dig into the version that made it onto my dress. The basic design comes from Der Bazar, the German magazine from which Harper's obtained a good bit of its content, in the January 9, 1871 issue. Yes, much of my research dates from 1871, or from 1868-1869.

Like many designs, this one comes with instructions on how to make it. My amateurish translation:

"Bodice Trims of Satin Ribbons cut in the form of a heart shaped or with corners, fitting differing clothing" 

A four to six centimeter wide black velvet* ribbon, trimmed with a little wider black lace or "Seidenfranze", arranged in many folds as bodice trim, designed, so that it imitates a heart-shaped or cornered shape, and also like bretelles. The figures numbers 26 through 29 show of these trims in four different arrangements,so that they can be worn with several dresses, insomuch that one does not sew it to the bodice, but instead fastens it with small pins.

[Figure number 26 is not translated]

Figure number 27. Black satin ribbon with lace is arranged in a heart-shaped cut. The velvet ribbon is 100 centimeters long, 4 centimeters wide, bordered with black "Lueftrinefutter"  and on one of the long sides with 5 centimeters wider, bounded by pleated rows of black lace. In order to achieve the rounding around the neckline, the ribbon is laid into two pleats. The ends of the ribbons are put in a pleat, then sewn together; the joint covered by a velvet bow."

*Sammet is an old term for velvet, not for satin, as I had translated originally. Thank you most kindly, Sabine of Kleidung um 1800, for the correction. Sabine further reports that because the old velvet was smooth and shiny, it could look like satin when drawn.

Whoo. That translation took a while, since it's hard to see the text very clearly, and the language is a wee antiquated. I had to resort to Beolingus, a favorite online dictionary, a good bit. "Seidenfranze" remains impenetrable: it's something silk. "Lueftrinefutter" really got me: it's some sort of airy lining fabric, perhaps? Yeowp.

My Interpretation

What did I do? My dress is some sort of broadcloth trimmed with plain weave black cotton, you know, the inexpensive, nay, cheap, type sold around Halloween for $2 a yard.

Given the matte effect of the cotton, and a non-existent budget, I used more of that black cotton instead of black satin ribbon.

I took a two-three inch-ish wide strip of the cotton, cut on the straight, long enough to fit around my neckline plus some extra for ooomph. Remember that the collar is wide, so if it's longer than your neck opening that doesn't matter too much, because the lace hides the dress fabric.

I folded it longways, then turned in each long edge again to hide the raw edges, and starched it stiff as stiff.

Fold in the long raw edges, and press.

Then I folded the strip in half, and starched it again. Now I had a nice strong base to work with, that reminds me in looks of bias tape, but cut on the straight.

Fold the strip in half longways and press again.

Then from my stash of antique lace, I found a long, beautiful piece that had been sewn to what seems like fine starched muslin, and cut from a dress...probably it had been a collar, too, since it had a natural curve. It wasn't long enough to pleat as in the Der Bazar example, but not all collars featured pleating, and as the lace curves, it waves a bit, as you would expect. It was a little longer than the collar base strip, so I folded the excess underneath at the ends. It doesn't show underneath the ribbon bow.

I put the bodice on my mannequin, placed the black cotton strip around the existing collar line, and pinned it there. The doubled edge was to the inside, the clean fold next to the lace, where it might be seen.

Then I tacked the the lace to the cotton strip base, using a combination stitch, with very tiny stitches on the outside, so small they can't easily be seen. As I went, I shaped both the cotton strip and the lace to follow the neckline. At each end the cotton strip is turned under and sewn in place.

The lace sewn to the cotton strip base.

You can see the long side of the stitches holding the slace down.

Seamstresses did the same thing in the nineteenth and early 20th centuries, at times. Here is either a small stand collar or a cuff, of satin lined with a stiff cotton or linen. The front:

The back. The lace is simply tacked on.  Mmm, I'd hate the feeling of bits of lace hugging my neck, chafe, chafe, chafe. Bet this is a wide cuff. Well, who knows? The closures are missing. Do you notice how the lace is narrowed in the middle not by trimming it, but just by bringing it further towards the top of the lining? Clever, and it saves the lace in case it's needed again.

The final step? I'd forgotten about pinning the collar to the bodice, but since the existing neckline trim is a band of plain cotton placed just outside the neckline, it was natural to just tack it into place, again, right on the mannequin to assure the best fit.

Now I had a collar, but it didn't join it at the bottom. Instead of sewing the bottom ends permanently at this juncture, and thus be forced to cut my precious lace, I chose to overlap the two pieces, and pin them together with a velvet (alas, not cotton or silk velvet) bow: one pin holds both bow on and collar closed. Lace may have been less expensive in the nineteenth century than in previous centuries, but I treat mine as if it were gold. After all, who knows what life it may lead in the future?

Oh, N.B. The lace inside the collar is just tacked in place, raw. I need to affix the lace to a little band so that I can sew the band instead of the lace. I was careful, but still, that's better practice. I might also make it a little shorter, although you do see some very fluffy inside-the-neckline treatments in some antique photos.

There you are. Here is the fichu-collar, before the bow is pinned to it to close it.

Here it is with the bow added. You can't tell the ends are folded over one another, can you?

Here is the view from the back.

Now you know what these whatsits are, where to find examples and directions, and how you can make them. There are directions galore in the magazines, and my little experiment to work from, too.

So what are you waiting for? Go forth and collar yourself some neckline adornment!

Ma'am, Your Corset's On Upside Down

After last weekend's gala, I was such a happy little clam: what a fun time we'd had! Carefree and silly with about a thousand other people, all being carefree and silly together, all for a good cause.

Then I saw the pictures. In particular, I saw this. Blue arrows mark the spots.

Ginormous wrinkle on the bodice above the chest, especially on one side. What is going on, I thought? Almost equally enormous wrinkles elsewhere. The costumer's nightmare, a very ill fit. And me with a big fat goofy smile oblivious to the damning evidence below. This same thing happened the first time I wore the dress. Really, two times? And me not notice?

Last night, falling asleep, the thought occurred to me: what if your fitting skills aren't going to the dogs after all? What if?

So this evening, I tried it on, "it" being my Kay Gnagey corset. A very nice corset, well made, and which used to be well fitting. What was going on? It fit horribly! There was this big point above my chest, and the bust gussets...

Wait a minute.

I took the thing off. Looked at it. Turned it the other side round, and tried it one again.

Well, I'll be. It's true. I had worn the...corset.........upside.............down. Twice.

What a fabulous hoot! I'd walked around last fall, and last Saturday evening, with my main under-thingy wrong-side up.

What gave it away? The fact that there are no big floppy bust gussets in a Victorian corset. I've gotten so used to looking at floppy gathered bust gussets in Regency wear that, well....

And besides, I only dress up a few times a year! In fact, only once last year. So...

Am much more focused on research and translations and decoding long-decayed skills than actually wearing the things I make...

Yeah, okay, no excuses really work here, do they?

Fact is, I'm a silly dork, and you can all laugh long and hard.

I have

Just to prove that I can sort of fit bodices (sleeves still need work: sleeve heads are too big and should ease into the armscye and not need gathers, as I had to do), here's what the bodice looks like with the under-thingie worn upside-up, as my son calls it.

See, there's supposed to be a little give at the shoulder, but not much. A few little wrinkles are normal when one moves. Also, if I hook-and-eye the bodice to the skirt, the weight of the latter will pull the bodice even smoother. Finally, if I ever get around to boning the bodice like it's supposed to be, and adding a bust improver near the armscye, it will look better still. Pppfff. 

Hey, even a little tight across the back. That's more like it.

Oh, look, there's a bug on the ceiling.

By the way, the collar is a collarette, a removable piece of decor to brighten up a dress, and change out as needed. They went by myriad names in the early 1870s. At some point I'll show you some fashion plates of originals, including the German one from which the design of this one derives.

Ciao!


And now to bed, where I can rest easy tonight.

Snort.

The Night Circus Gala at the Red Mile

Jenni, Laura, and I from our sewing society attended;
sorry for the blur, folks.  What's with the bad fit on my
dress? Read the next post to find out ;p

Last night the Night Circus came to town, and for those wearing red scarves, it was a magical evening in a wedding-cake barn in the clearest of air under a crisp white moon.

If you've read the book by Erin Morgenstern, you already know a little about what I am talking of. If you live near Lexington, KY, you know that the the Night Circus Gala fundraiser in honor of the Lexington-Fayette Public Library happened at the Red Mile barn last evening, and that it was a real success.

Who knew there'd be so many people, from gents in their 80s to itty-bitty little girls, who wanted to dress in red, black and white or their steampunk or Victorian best, don a red scarf and go watch fire dancers, hula dancers, sword swallowers, jugglers, acrobats, magicians, stilt walkers, and the only brass band I know of who boast some members who like black and white tights? There was so much more even than that, and the hors d'oevres were fresh, excellent quality and wild. Grass green tarts? Our town loves a good party, and heaven knows, loves to dress up. So perhaps I shouldn't be surprised. Still, it was a treat to see so many different kinds of people throwing care over their shoulders, patting on a decorated top hat and goggles or wiggling into a bustled tutu over fishnet tights, or just a suit or party dress, and heading out for a good time together. Thank you, Laura and Jenni, for making sure we all went! (A note: other people took pictures of us together, but this is one of the only ones I have of us three. Grr. Debra, another friend from book club -- so good to see you, Debra! -- took the rest of me.)

Would that I had a real camera along, but alas, the cell phone had to do. So, if you feel like squinting a little into a haze, come with me and view a few of the sights. Sure hope that more people will post interesting pictures. The Herald Leader did, but it's just mug shots. Cute ones, but mug shots anyway. Oh, wait, Erin Morgenstern posted some, plus she wrote about it all on her blog, in ponies! gala! i love kentucky. Well, we love you, too!

Okay, Here's the Dress

The dress? The black 1870 bustle dress from last fall, with some changes and additions. Nice vacant stare, there. (Edit, oh, and there's something strange going on with the fit. Read my next post to find out what. Giggle, snort.)

Gone is the old plain neckline. It's replaced with what was often known at the time as a collarette, a cotton and lace collar shaped to the neckline and tacked into place. It can be changed out as needed. I used some handsome antique lace, edged it with cotton to match the dress trim, and added a velvet bow at the bottom, another typical touch.

The red scarf worn by the circus goers is an antique silk obi. It's lighter than air, fluttery, and one of my favorite accessories, waiting for years to come out of the chest. Cannot wait to wear it in a contemporary setting.

The overskirt trim has been beefed up with bias fold band trim, tacked down about every inch with black thread. The pleats to each side of the overskirt are covered with rosettes in black cotton to match the big rosette at the back. The overskirt is belted with an antique Victorian silk sash; had I a back shot you could see the applied soutache braid and the fancy knotted fringe.

The underskirt flounce is now topped with a 9-inch box-pleated trim sewn down top and bottom; the design was very, very common and I like it a lot. Later I'll add a final bias fold band above it to match the overskirt. Please note one darling tiny tot to the left, along with her proud daddy.

The hat has been trimmed on the side with a bow of white gimp. Sadly, once again the stupid hat just would NOT stay in place. This time, instead of tipping to the side, it slid backwards. It's supposed to be tipped forward on my head. Two strikes and you're out, hat. Time to take you apart and make a new one. Grrrrr. Which I did...

Since this was a fantasy event, I left most of my hair long, just putting a wee bit in a bun to hold out the veil in the back.

I didn't pouf the overskirt much this time, and rather like the more relaxed effect.

Now owning several enormous heavy duty hooks and eyes, I will attach them to bodice and skirt, for just as on its first wearing, the bodice rode up a bit.

Sorry for the lack of back shots. Costumers always photo the back view, but apparently I didn't get the message. Ah well.

A Bit of the Event

Cameras were in evidence everywhere.

The March Madness brass band.

Hula dancers in the dusk: the hula hoops often looked like liquid neon in the air.

Late dusk arrived, the moon rose over the top of the round Red Mile barn, and the chill started to descend.

Folks moved under the tent, like the stilt walker,

or inside the barn, lit with fairy lights

and a glorious three-tier chandelier, all under a wooden roof feet and feet and feet above. People-watching was magnificent from the second-level railing.

I wonder if the peacock lady, who I think won the costume contest, ever tired of being photographed? She had an enormous tail and an applied mohawk, and this was her first sewing venture. Pretty successful, I think!

Advance advertising for the event, as if it needed it. People had been waiting for months. A side note: apparently galas in this mold have been popping up all over the States in the past months, if Google is any guide.

Now, it's time to for me to read the book. If you haven't visited Ms. Morgenstern's site, go find her blog. I've already discovered that her poetry, and especially her very short stories, are good reading. Her work makes me think of a kinder version of the magical realism novels I studied in undergrad days.

Now for bed, and I hope, magically good dreams. Good night!