Christmastime Silliness with the Twins

The boys sure have enjoyed their first Christmas season. They've laughed and giggled until they've worn themselves out, have shaken wrapping paper and crinkled up circulars from the daily paper, Christopher has mastered sitting up, and Noah has mastered the art of the screech. Herewith, video documentation:

Christopher Gets More Than He Bargained For



Playing in the Good Ship "Noah"

I didn't know boys could laugh together so much. This sort of thing goes on intermittently all day.



Noah Takes Control

...of the video camera. Apparently he wasn't enamoured of all the attention his brother was getting.




To Come on Monday or Tuesday:

• our babies dance to Aaron Neville
• Noah's hiccups have him trying to go airborne
• Christopher says: "mna mna mna mna"
• The tumble and what came of it
  

The Twins Again: Merry Christmas!

Noah and Christopher wish you a very merry Christmas.

This morning, Noah played a baby shepherd. Here he is:



On the Third Sunday in Advent, we dined out with friends at Holly Hill Inn, and the boys dressed up. After returning home, they played in the family room, and at one point Christopher decided to take one of Noah's socks off. Lots of laughter followed. Here they are:

Dad, a Few More Scenes of the Twins!

My, my, my, are the babies morphing. A few weeks ago, they noticed each other but only one at a time. As of a few days ago, boom, we have two little babies who enjoy each others' company!

Noah and Christopher are fun to feed, too. No more tickling their faces to encourage them to eat cereal. Like little birds, they're ready with their mouths open, these days. Mmm, Noah says, mmmm, good.

Laptime

Here, then, Noah and Christopher sitting on Mama's lap on a cloudy day, giggling and talking and batting each others' faces.



Now, the results aren't always this giggly...was it two days ago? Christopher liked Noah's apple-bright cheek so much that he reached over and pinched it, and didn't let go. Jane had to step in, and of course Noah was wailing. When I walked in a few minutes later, Christopher played up his angelic face, while Noah's eyes were rimmed with red.

MMM, MMM, Good!

Here we have Noah telling us that rice cereal, like Campbell's Soup, is yummy in the tummy.

The Twins Are Growing, and Each Has Discovered He Has a Brother

This past month I've been taking short videos of the twins with my camera. The results may be grainy but they sure are fun. At this point the boys have each discovered that there is another creature like himself in the house. This results in some interesting exchanges. Sometimes things are a little one-sided, and at other times (oh no!) the boys already show their facility for claiming what is another's. You'll see if you watch...

Noah Discovers He Has a Brother


Noah Steals the Ducky Book from Christopher...


and Christopher Steals it Back (after a distracted moment)


Happy Twins Say Good Morning!

Two Little Halloween Bears

Here are Noah and Christopher in their Halloween hats and mitts: they dressed as little brown bears. They didn't want to show their paws, little bums: the insides of the paws have little light-brown paw pads!

I sewed the hats and mitts on my antique Singer 28 handcrank, a lovely machine, so easy to use, so accommodating of fleece!

A Half-Edwardian Ensemble (Historybounding)

Edited Sept 17, 2021 to note: This was an early example of historybounding :}

Today is Hallowe'en, and this week on the Sense and Sensibility board it's "Week in Historical Dress". So today I dressed in an Edwardian-inspired mode. Curte and I lunched at the Ashland estate, home of Henry Clay, Kentucky's hero and our nation's Great Compromiser. Afterwards we took a few pictures. The first shot was taken in Ashland's formal garden, which is walled by 7-foot hedges, and arranged into beds of perennials, topiaries and shrubberies, lime trees in pots, and statuary.

About the outfit: The 5-panel herringbone wool skirt and underlying flounced cotton petticoat were drafted from a 1911 pattern. My locket is from my mother's family and is inscribed for Christmas, 1911, while the gold bangle dates to somewhere in the same period. The turtleneck mimics the high neck and tight sleeves popular during that age, as does the loose bun hairstyle. The belt is appropriate for work wear, although its dimensions mayn't be right. As is typical with these types of outfits, my shoes aren't appropriate; I am wearing loafers. I have some heels with a basically proper look, but they are too high, so that the skirt length goes off: it should be around the shoe tops or so.

The second image was taken on the piazza at the back of Ashland house. Ashland was built in the 1850s, and is such a friendly place. It sits on 17 acres in the Ashland Park neighborhood of old Lexington; that neighborhood was developed in the 1920s from Ashland farm and neighboring Woodland Farm (I believe), under the design guidance of the Olmsted brothers. What a rich farm it had been; we live in Ashland Park and the topsoil in our back garden is thick, dark, earthworm-riddled loam. Here it is October 31 and a local strain of phlox, from a family in nearby Versailles, is still blooming, as it has been since June.

It seems that most Ashland Park residents treat Ashland as home and a sort of extended back yard. We lunch there at the Gingko Tree, an outdoor cafe that offers traditional Kentucky lunch dishes, loaded with cream and good things, we picnic there, walk, jog and play frisbee there, we help in the gardens and volunteer in the house, and each Labor Day we attend a jazz concert there. I like to hope that the Clays would be pleased that we love their old home so well.

Christopher and Noah, in Motion

Summer passed, and fall is passing. Outside the bedroom window I hear a heavy breeze, heavy with rain, and cold to boot. Yes, it's 50 degrees; so says the thermometer. Goodbye, warm weather!

It's beginning to be the time of year for more indoor activities, and pulling together family pictures and videos is just one of those. Of course, we've been inside most of the warm months anyway. The twins needed so much care, being preemies, and the drought brought dog days to Lexington from June onwards, with few breaks. There weren't many evenings cool enough to plop the boys in the stroller and take them outside.

Left: Christopher in an arty shot, burrowed into his blankets.

Despite the heat and all the work, we had time to enjoy our new little family, and so this evening I have a few videos and pictures to share. The videos are short, but, well, we enjoy them. Perhaps you will too.

And no, I haven't forgotten sewing. I have pictures to share of several more pieces of vintage clothing I've come home with and studies, and several new online sources for vintage fashion information.

The Twins' First Videos



Here is Christopher trying rice cereal for the first time.



Here's Noah's first solid food experience, and yes, it's rice cereal, too.



Here is a slice of a incandescent Sunday afternoon, with babies and cats, on the front porch.



Finally, we record Christopher's private language. Is he a soprano chipmunk?

A Few Still Pictures



The boys of a sunny morning, watching their mobile. Noah is to the left, while Christopher, at right, works on turning over. Getting himself from back to stomach is his primary activity these days.











Noah at the dinner table.

In Memoriam: Zip Zip Kitty, April 1992 - June 2007

Our Zip Zip. Oh how we miss her. Our Purrpaw; little Foursquare - her squares of calico color decorating the back of her neck in quadrants; Purrball; Kitty Zip; Kitty in a Catsuit; Wibble; Whipple; Kittens Plural (applied to one cat: go figure); Sweet Purr, Zhip-Zhip. Endless affectionate names to call our sweet best companion for 15 years. Her mother, Inkspot, of whom Zip was probably the last living of her five kittens, is so blue without her kitten-soft, thick-furred, blue-eyed, dilute calico daughter. She asks to go outside and then sleeps endlessly in her rocking chair on the front porch, and we find it as hard to console her as we find it to console ourselves.

At left, Zip Zip in late 2004.

Zip Zip, my husband, and I shared our lives' most important moments to date. Zip's fascination with strings and sewing notions, her waiting at the base of trees, nose upraised, ears perked, tail quivering, while squirrels danced, heads down, and chattering, teasing her just feet above. She wouldn't hunt, but loved to watch, and the squirrel population grazed nearby restful and unmolested. Zip, her tail like a flag, galloping ecstatically to Curte in the backyard, to roll over in the grass and rub her back in it, purring, while he talked to her, Zhiiiip, Zhipppp, you silly. Her bout with bone cancer, which took her left foreleg; I stayed and slept with her in the guest room until she recovered enough to manage the rest of the house. Through rounds of kitty dialysis and special food, from which she'd rebound with energy and purring largely intact.

She helped us through my bout with severe chronic illness, through graduate school, multiple moves, meeting my future husband and thinking he was a good guy worthy of napping in his lap, marriage, two house renovations and endless furniture rearragements, both of which she disliked as a unwanted change in a happy routine. Though our marriage, and move to my husband's hometown: the drive up I-75 left her meowing faintly and continuously in my arms while I tried to steer, while her mother foamed at the mouth, all of us panting because we had the heat on in the Saturn to help the overheating car survive a traffic jam. Through my pregnancy and the arrival of the two boys.

At left, Zip Zip on June 22nd.

She fell at age 15 years to the effects of chronic kidney disease and the stress of getting around without her left foreleg, lost to bone cancer two years ago. The arrival of the boys didn't help: she felt confused and we were all stressed trying to pay loving attention to all of each other, and none getting enough.

Not Much Sewing for Awhile: The Twins Have Taken Over!

My goodness, is time a different entity now! Since the arrival of our twin boys on May 31, time has become both more blurred and less elastic. We live by their stomach clocks: every three hours the boys open their bow-shaped mouths like tiny birds for their next bottle of milk. We grab sleep, wake, run errands, wash them, love and hug and kiss them, during the intervening hours, whose minutes flee so quickly.

At left, our twins at three days old.

So quickly and through the fog of sleep deprivation, so that it's already difficult to remember that their fingers measured less than the length of my pinky fingernail just four weeks ago, that they slept through their feedings, that we hardly knew what color their eyes were, that we were elated and I was in pain from the sequelae to the c-section for weeks, that to compound the change we lost our beloved companion Zip Zip, for whom this blog is named, and spent days worrying about her decline, days crying mourning our loss, until now it's a soft ache that I doubt, like all good loves, will ever fully fade away.

Now we each of us have had some measure of sleep, Mom, my husband, and I, and the boys are growing and growing, and the smaller twin, at six pounds, and plucky as he was in the NICU, is first to look around him with interest, first to examine patterns of black and white. Born at 35 weeks, 4 lbs. and 15 oz., he didn't need but a little forced air for a short time, and the warmth of the heated beds, and by his second day my husband was feeding him with a bottle and he was drinking in the same methodical way that he maintains now. He was Baby B, the baby to the right, before birth, and he didn't move and wiggle as much as his brother, so we named him Noah, which means restful and peaceful.

His brother is more volatile: he gulps his milk and then has a hard time burping; he eats too fast unless you set him up for a slow, quiet meal, and then is gassy and miserable and worries his parents and grandmother. He's bigger, too, and was at birth too, but, we understand from the NICU that the bigger twin often has a harder time. He needed forced oxygen and a feeding tube, and his heated bed, although at day 3 he graduated to our room and to the regular nursery so that we could care for he and his brother. He's still a little slower to develop; his huge eyes watch you with warm, vital interest, and his looks are loving, I fancy, and he loves, loves, loves to be held, but his face has yet to light up to that almost smile that Noah is already gracing us with. He fusses and fumes, and his soundtrack of peeps and gassy groans is practically continuous, even in sleep.

Above, the twins on June 17th.

So these are our boys and for awhile sewing and vintage machines, like other hobbies, move to the background, remembered fondly but with detachment and engaged in at odd moments, and right now, truth be known, not at all.

Box Pleating Dress Trim by Hand and By Machine

I had been planning to trim a bed jacket with box-pleated trim for some time but wasn't sure how to do it. None of my antique sewing manuals were of help; the closest I got was the Harper's Bazar reprints in Frances Grimble's Reconstruction Fashions book. They illustrate complex pleatings but don't say how to achieve them!

Turns out there's help!

If you want to box pleat narrow trim by hand, it's simpler than it looks. All you need is pins and the fabric to be pleated. What you do is to make little accordion (knife) pleats of the same size, one to the right, then one to the left, and then one to the right, and then one to the left, and so on.

To see how it's done, have a look at Jennie La Fleur's YouTube tutorial at http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DbJyLaHS6b4. Thank you, Jenny!



To make box pleats by machine, you can use a fork to manipulate the fabric to the left and right, just in front of the sewing machine needle. Heather McNaughton demonstrates this on her Truly Victorian pattern site. See her Help and Answers page at http://trulyvictorian.netfirms.com/FAQ.html and click on Fork Pleating. The video is in Quicktime, takes forever to load. Be patient. I had to wait nearly an hour to download it.

Two New Posts All of a Sudden: Why the Delay?

To put it plainly, life has changed a lot since last fall. Back then I was working on an Edwardian corset cover in batiste, with a 26" waist. That waistline is temporarily no more, as my husband and I are expecting twin boys late this spring. So all the sewing action is centered around maternity wear and baby wear. Plus wear for the house...curtains and London shades, crib ruffles. Mom and I are very busy on that score. Yes, that's the other big change: my mother retired to our town and is now close by. It's delightful.

The maternity wear is still retro inspired: I prefer high-waisted loose dresses, not the clingy fashions now current. The two posts below make that clear.

If a chance presents itself, will show the embroidered saques I am making for the boys. The patterns from them come from the World War II era.

Well, dinner calls. When you're expecting, dinner times have a new urgency and it's best not to wait too long.

New Chocolate and Mint Polka Dot Maternity Dress! Brief Dress Diary

Barely five minutes before my friend arrived yesterday so we could go to our ladies' tea society St. Patrick's Day tea, I finished this new maternity jumper. My heart was in my mouth...wasn't sure she'd ring the doorbell and I'd still not be quite dressed and at the ironing board.





Had a favorite jumper that I outgrew a few weeks ago, and loved the bodice. So simple and you just slip it over your blouse...no zips or buttons or strings. When you get bigger, twisting and turning is less easy than it was.

Plus, the high waist is very slimming. Some of my other dresses have a natural waistline and I look much, much bigger -- I kid you not! Plus, most maternity dresses today highlight the shape too much: I am happier with flowing curves, not tight delineations.

Thought to use the Threads magazine pattern-making trick that uses painter's tape. I placed tape over each piece of the jumper bodice in turn. I made sure to cover each piece entirely and carefully so that when I pulled it off it would retain the shape of the original. (Exception: center front and center back pieces I just did half of, like one would in a regular pattern.)

Then I flattened them all out onto Kraft paper and made adjustments. I added extra room, lowered and widened the neckline, as the original was a little claustrophobic looking, and added 1" seam allowances for fitting. Voila: pattern pieces!

This jumper had no darts, but curved seams instead. They are easier to pattern and produce a lovely line, but are harder to sew.

After that I made a muslin toile, found I had too much room, and cut everything down, and made sure to adjust the pattern.

Using the toile as a full lining, I made up the bodice in the chocolate and mint polka dot polished cotton from Hancock's. Unlike some of their quilter's cotton, this is tightly woven -- it didn't fray much.

For the skirt portion, I used pattern pieces from a maternity dress pattern I already own, but because that pattern was not for late pregnancy, much less a twins pregnancy, I added two panels, one to each side of the front. I fully lined the skirt as well for better body and durability.

Only the front is gathered, and the gathers were handsewn at about 5-6 to the inch, as I think finer gathers look better. Sadly, some of them flattened out a bit too much when I machine sewed over them for durability. Phoo.

The dress has room to grow in both bodice and skirt yet because I have several months to go. It's loose in back. I wanted a straight back line, nothing clingy, but this looseness was too much, so I tied on a ribbon on the waist and it created two back bodice pleats naturally, one near each underarm, so the back still looks smooth (phew!). Now that was a nice, unexpected result.

The only thing I am unhappy with was part of the original: the back bodice seam between bodice and skirt is lower than the front; the ribbon tie accentuates the sliding line. I should have changed that too but wasn't thinking. Oh well.

Yes, the front hem rides up: I have a temporary hem there, but room to hem it properly. Just didn't have time yesterday!

If energy allows, would like to make the Regency dress pattern from Jennie Chancey's Sense and Sensibility pattern line, slightly shortened, as another springtime dress.

Regency Chemise Made into Maternity Nightgown Brief Dress Diary

At long, long, last, I completed the Jenny Chancey's Sense and Sensibility Regency chemise...tweaking the pattern to make it into a maternity nightgown with lace and a ruffle.

Here is the gown on my dressmaker's form, with pillows added to simulate the, um, maternal, look. I howled at the result; maybe you will too.



Here is the gown from the back:



You can see that there is plenty of room. Indeed, when I wore it the other night it turned out to be a great fit: it doesn't bind or cling or bother your torso. Most maternity wear these days has a waistline and I find that soooooooo uncomfortable.

I used the Simplicity version of Jennie's pattern, which as we know has more ease. Then, per her instructions on this site, I added width to the front and back panels.

The gown made of 99-cent natural muslin. Sure, it's a low thread count, but it softens up in a hurry. Let's hope it doesn't disintegrate.

The gown is trimmed with cotton lace hand whipped on at the neckline; it is gathered with Offray pink cording. I added a ruffle at the bottom too, set on wrong side to wrong side, and overlaid with cotton beading threaded with Offray pink and white ribbed ribbon to hide the join. All seams are flat-felled. Sleeve hems are hand rolled and whipped and the hem behind the ruffle made using a machine hemmer.

The gown was sewn on two antique machines. For the flat felled seams I used a 1911 Wilcox and Gibbs treadle machine that you see in the background of one of the pictures. It looks very small up top and has the prettiest cast-iron legs, all scrolls and leaves. It produces remarkably tiny, perfectly precise stitches.

I also used a Singer hand crank of the same era. That machine you crank by hand, as the name implies. It's actually quite a fast, reliable machine, doesn't tire your arm, and can go literally anywhere with you.

I used a Singer ruffler attachment to create a fairly tight ruffle. Have attached pictures of the ruffler on the machine and the results. The ruffler is actually older than the machine: ones made after the 19-teens have more settings.

Here is the ruffler. The regular sewing foot is behind it so you get some idea of the difference:



and the results:



There are a few more photos of the gown minus those silly pillows at http://s83.photobucket.com/albums/j306/ZipZIpInkspot/

Lastly, because I couldn't resist, here is Zip kitty, our darling who had bone cancer and a resulting amputation, napping in our laundry basket.

A 1909 Edwardian Fitted Corset Cover Dress Diary, Part 2: Cutting, Basting, Stitching

Here is the second set of steps I followed in making up a 1909-era fitted corset cover from Frances' Grimbles' The Edwardian Modiste. All the pattern pieces being drafted in pencil on heavy Kraft paper, I next cut them out. I marked each in pencil with all the pattern markings from the originals in the book. I also noted on each piece where the shoulder and side seams are, where hems and finished edged are. I marked how many pieces of fabric to cut from each pattern piece, and marked the grainlines (following Frances' instructions, p.8). Cutting the Pieces from the Fashion Fabric For this project I used 100% cotton fine white batiste fabric. After ironing it, I laid it doubled on the work table, since I'd need to cut two fabric pieces from each pattern piece. Each pattern piece was carefully pinned to both fabric layers, and outlined entirely around with blue tailor's chalk. Then I cut out all the pieces. After that came something that proved critical: when sewing books tell you to transfer all pattern marks to the fabric, they mean it. With a garment as fitted as this, it's a major pain if you forget to copy a mark and thus can't line up a piece with its mate properly or can't figure out where a hole goes. When transferring marks such as seamlines, make the with full lines, not a series of dots. I used both pencil and tailor's chalk. It's SO much easier to follow a full line when pinning and basting pattern pieces together than to try to reconstruct the seamline in your head from a couple of wide-apart dots. Just try to follow a few dots when pinning prcisely curved bodice seams, for example! Pinning the Corset Cover Pieces Next I pinned the fabric pieces together. I pinned them on the mannequin, because that was was able to see the fabric drape on teh body and know with more surety which piece was to go where. All the pieces ended matching up pretty surprisingly well when I took into account easing curved pieces one to another...when I pinned them straight with no ease the pieces didn't match up at their ends. Another reason to pin on the mannequin and not flat! Only pieces that didn't match perfectly was the side underarm to side front piece. Still don't know why but it didn't end up affecting the fit. Also found that following Frances' suggestion and pinning from the bottom of the pieces up to the neckline, with the pin points facing up, worked better for some reason. Basting the Corset Cover Together Being rather persnickety, I follow old sewing book guidelines and baste everything before I sew it. Following Frances' suggestion, I basted pieces together from the waistline upwards. Again following suggestion, I basted in this order:

• the front pieces together,
• then the side front pieces to the front pieces,
• then the underarm pieces to the side front pieces,
• finally the back pieces to the underarm pieces and the top of the back pieces to the side front pieces at the shoulders.

If alterations were needed, I was told to make them at the underarm seams and the shoulders, but none were needed really as far as fit to the body. The fit was pretty close.

What didn't fit was the lengths of the pieces. Some were too long, so I marked the spot where they should be cut on the original Kraft pattern pieces.

Stitching the Corset Cover Together

I could have used felled seams, but chose to use French seams. Both seams leave no edges needing some sort of finishing...all raw edges are enclosed by fabric.

Here's where I made a silly mistake! A French seam is sewn in two parts.

First you stitch 3/8 (or 1/4) inch OUTSIDE the seam line, in the seam allowance area. Then you flip the pieces inwards and sew ON TOP of the seam line to enclose the fabric pieces' raw edges.

Note that means marking the seam line carefully on your fabric...do not guess on this one unless you're really skilled, which obviously I am not.

What I did by mistake was to start by sewing on the actual seam line. That meant that when I flipped the pieces over and sewing about 3/8" in from the edge, I was taking up 3/8" or so of fabric on each side. All in all I lost an inch and 3/4, at least, so when I put the corset cover on the mannequin and then tried it on me, the poor corset cover was WAY too tight. Had to take out all the seams and start over.

Yet at that point I had trimmed the seams! So this second round I couldn't do French seams because I didn't have the needed amount of fabric. Instead I did straight seams, and then carefully rolled and closely overhand stitched the raw edges by hand (with both raw edges of each seam held together and treated as one). The effect is quite dainty actually, and probably better in terms of less bulk than all but the finest French seam would be, although the seams are not as strong.

Cutting the Neckline and Armscyes

What, you say, this hasn't been determined by the pattern?

Nope, it hasn't, really. You could go with the original neckline, but the general directions written in The Edwardian Modiste allow, nay almost expect, you to play with the results and get them to what you want, not what the pattern thinks you may want.

I decided where I wanted the neckline to be based on the cut of a chemise I have. I actually put on the chemise and then the corset cover over it.

To make an even curve that matched on both left and right sides of the neckline, I then marked the curve of the neckline, following the curve of the chemise but just a little higher up on the chest, marking on ONE SIDE of the neckline ONLY, in my case the left side. Then I took off the corset cover, folded it along the front seam, and then copied the neckline curve to the right side of the neckline. To copy the chalkline more easily I held up the doubled fabric against a windowpane so I could see through the fabric and trace the marking.

The back of this corset cover is made in a V surplice, so there is no back neckline to speak of. All I had to do was blend the neckline with upper hemline of the back pieces. Mine matched without much blending neccessary.

Now I needed to set the hem allowance OUT from the actual neckline. Did this by measuring 1 inch out from the neckline and marking a second line.

Now I put the cover back on the mannequin inside out and turned in the neckline, clipping little Vs as needed so the fabric would turn in neatly. I avoided clipping seams as much as possible but when I had to, dotted the seam edge with Fray Chek.

For the armscyes (armholds), I did basically the same thing. This time I based the armholes on a semi-loose, semit-fitted armholes of a sleeveless princess-cut chemise dress that I wear a lot and whose armholes are very comfortable.

A 1909 Edwardian Fitted Corset Cover Dress Diary, Part 1: Drafting

A more form-fitting corset cover being needed for an ensemble nearly completed, I decided to construct a fitted sleeveless corset cover from the January 1909 issue of The American Modiste. The pattern is reprinted in full in Frances Grimble's The Edwardian Modiste. So far, the project has gone amazingly well, excepting one silly mistake on my part. This Part 1 of the dress diary covers drafting and cutting the pattern. Left: The corset cover diagram and its pattern pieces. The cover fits snugly in front, and has no front closing. Instead, the two back pieces end in long ties; the back pieces cross over one another and the ties come around front and are tied. This means that the cover can be eased or fitted as needed. I liked that simplicity. Using the American Modiste Pattern The American Modiste patterns were designed to be used with a set of special proportionally scaled rulers. They are marked in proprietary units made of numbers and letters. Frances Grimble's book supplies you with printed copies of the scales in the back of the book. You pick the particular rulers that fit your measurements, and then use them to draft copies of the pattern up to your size. Since Frances didn't have access to the curved ruler, she suggests using a French curve to make up the curved parts of the pattern. Drafting the pattern proved to be much, much, much easier than I thought. Certainly easier than trying to size up the pattern on the computer and then printing out and matching bits of paper to one another. I don't have a big projector and so couldn't project the pieces up on a wall. Creating Scaled Rulers This pattern required a bust measurement ruler, called a "scale", and a "length of waist" (neckbone to waist) measurement scale. Mine are 36" and 18". Left: The corset cover diagram and the two scaled rulers. Therefore, I needed the 36" scale ruler for the bust. According to instructions, I doubled the length of waist measurement and came out with 36" again for that scale. I traced the 36" scale onto a sheet of paper. I pasted that to a piece of cardboard, and then cut it out carefully, and taped to a housepaint stirrer. Voila: scale ruler! Drafting the Pattern Pieces You need a big sheet of nice, stiff Kraft paper, a pencil and eraser, a French curve, that special scale ruler, and an L-square marked in inches. Each pattern piece is marked onto a sort of grid, with a "baseline" across the top, the 0 point at top right, and a vertical axis running straight downwards from 0. The result looks like a backwards, upside-down L. Each pattern piece is laid so that the straight of grain runs straight up and down. At key points in the pattern piece, such as a left edge or the top of a curve, horizontal lines are measured out from the vertical axis. For example, if you're looking at the pattern piece for the back, there is a horizontal line drawn at 11 units+D sub-units down from 0. It is drawn out to the left 15 units+C sub-units. It marks the extreme left edge of the pattern piece at the waistline. Above: Drafting horizontal crossline points on the Kraft pattern paper with the special ruler. What you do for each pattern piece is to:

• draw the baseline and vertical axis with the L square.
• Then you use the scale ruler, and working from the copy of the pattern piece in Frances' book, measure where each of the horizontal grid lines meets the vertical axis.
• Then you use the scale again and draw out each horizontal grid line to the length marked on the book's copy of the pattern piece.
• Then you connect each end of each horizontal line like you would dots, following the outline of the pattern piece in the book. You use a French curve to help you with curved sections.

Above: drafting a curved section of the pattern. Not having my own French curve, I copied one on paper and cut it out.

The pattern pieces have a certain amount of ease built in, but not much. Some hems are built in and some aren't, and some seam allowances are marked, and some aren't. Frances Grimbles' directions tell you to add extra for seam allowances and ease, and so I did...ended up having plenty and to spare, and was able after fitting the cut pieces, to re-mark the pattern pieces with adjustments so next time I have a good fit for me right off the bat.

Left: The pattern pieces drafted.

Vintage Dress in Motion

Ever wondered what attending a Civil War ball or an Edwardian soiree might be like for most of us, that is, those of us not priveleged to be either Keira Knightley or a movie extra?

These days ordinary people are filming events like this and posting them on sites such as YouTube.

Take a Civil War-era ball, for instance. You can hear the strains from a live band playing country dance and ball dance tunes, and watch rows of happy dancers from Maine perhaps, or Maryland, or wherever it is, rustle and turn and step to the music. The sounds of colorful skirts swishing mix with laughter and chatter. It's neat. See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=ibtkNuGvg9A

The Edwardian soiree is a smaller affair, but still fun to watch. See http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kgpnYUKlctA.

Then there's some plain fun. A band out of Europe -- Cibelle and her man have such lovely accents -- reinterpret a luminous, funny song while promenading their way through London, dressed in late Victorian garb.



For more videos and to see what one costume maven has bookmarked, see jenniloves2sew's YouTube page at http://www.youtube.com/profile?user=jenniloves2sew.

An Edwardian Ruche-Trimmed Hat dress Diary, Part 1

Next weekend is our annual Ladies' Tea Guild annual retreat, and I am in a hurry to finish a big-brimmed Edwardian hat for the occasion. In usual fashion, I procrastinated on completing what I thought would be the difficult part of the hat preparation: steaming a plain hat into the required shape. What a surprise, then, when the steaming and shaping process took less than 10 minutes, and was completed with burns or tears.

The Effect for Which This Hat Aims

One of the prominent antique clothing dealers offered a mousquetaire-style hat recently. Oh, for a glimpse of D'Artagnan! One side of the wide brim is turned up raffishly, while the rest of the brim turns down to frame the face. The requisite plume fluffs out the back, too (although if you look closely, the plume is actually an entire, and I hope artificial, bird). After the reference to dashing young bloods, the milliner turned from 17th century France to tastes entirely feminine, for she, and I am quite sure it was a she who added this extra bit of drama, ruched the entire underside of the hat in iridescent peacock-blue shot silk that goes copper in some lights. To balance things out, a row of ruching adorns the top of the hat as well. Voila...a marvel.

Above: ruched Edwardian wide-brimmed hat. Image from Vintage Textile

The Hat Base, Pre-Steaming

For the hat base I am using the High Crown Straw Hat (SH-955) sold by Jas. Townsend and Co. It has a 6-inch brim. The hat is quite well made, as advertised, although one should be aware that it's still a country hat...the straws are coarse-ish. This not your couture hat with straws as thin as buttonhole thread.

Steaming the Hat

To steam the hat I followed suggestions made by kind members of the Sense and Sensibility Patterns Forum.

At left: steaming hat brim to soften straw fibers so they will bend. The steam is escaping from a small hole in a pasta pot. Click picture to see larger shot...it shows amount of steam coming out.

Here's what I did:

Not having a teapot to create steam with, I found a large pasta pot with a tight lid but a closable hole cut in it to let excess steam escape.

• Filled it 1/3 full with water, and heat it until it was at a fast boil, and steam was merrily purring out of the hole.
• Held one small section of the hat brim up very close to the escaping steam to soften the straw.
• About 10-15 seconds later, pulled the hat away and tested the straw's ability to be shaped by gently forming an inward curve. What do you know? The straw obeyed.
• Bit by bit, held more sections of the hat brim to the steam and shaped them.
• Every so often, ran my hand around sections already bent, and bent them again just to make sure the bend would stay.
• Note: it's good to wear an oven mitt if you keep your hands near the steam long. You could get an awful burn quickly if you're not careful.
• As the straw cooled, the shape remained.
• For the upward tilt on one side, I held the hat brim over the steam again and bent the straw up instead of down. Had to hold the tilt in place for several minutes while the straw cooled.
• Re steamed and inward-bent the sections of the brim closest to the upward tilted part so they'd not start to tilt up too.
• Let the hat cool completely, upside down, so as not to stress the new curves on the brim. Will not start trimming it for a day or two.

The whole process took 10 minutes.

Here's the result! Next step: trimming. That's for another post.

Anatomy of an Edwardian 1900-1911 vintage white heavy cotton skirt

Yesterday I was fortunate enough to purchase a truly nifty circa, I am guessing, 1900-1911 day skirt. It's made of heavy white cotton or cotton-linen blend (for a linen drape and wrinkle, but without the linen sheen), and is cut with 9 wide-flaring gores. It fits very smoothly across the waist and hips, and then flares gently and evenly to almost the floor to create an elegant line. 

In the pictures here it's worn over a double-flounced petticoat drafted from a 1911 textbook (see previous blog entries). The design is sophisticated: the seams are felled, but instead of the double stitching showing on the exterior, the single stitching does, and the raised effect of the seams accentuates the vertical lines and even creates attractive shadow lines.

In addition, the front gore is very narrow, and barely seems to narrow towards the top. This creates what appears to be a straight narrow panel right in front, that again subtly elongates the figure. 

Dating the Skirt

Dating is a puzzle, but I argue for a date after 1900 but before 1912. Why?

• The narrow front panel was popular after 1905 or so.
• The elongated lines and emphasis on decorative seaming also date to this period.
• So does the smoothness of the habit-style back: there is no pleating or gathering in back, as was common in the 1890s.
• Habit-style day skirts often had back-closing skirts and this skirt is back-closing; the side closing wasn't the only popular closing during the Edwardian period.
• The waist falls at the natural waistline, as it might on a plain skirt after 1905 but before 1912-1913; it is neither raised nor cut so that the back waistline is higher than the front to fit a straight-front, S-bend corset. At 37 inches long in the front, it would fall to the shoe tops. In back it falls to 39", but when worn the hips and derriere cause the back to raise a bit so that all around the skirt falls to the same 37-inch length all the way around. After 1905 this length and hemming style was favored for day wear.
• On the other hand, the skirt has approximately 3.5 yard (125 inches) sweep. I will have to research closely to see how the recommended sweep varied during 1900-1911, but there were periods when it was narrower. I do know that wider sweeps were prevalent in the 1890s.
• The skirt almost surely doesn't date before the 1890s. There is no room for a bustle or other skirt enhancer or any sort, and the heavy goring and butter-smooth fit around the hips came in the with Edwardians.

What Was This Skirt Worn For?

My suspicion is that this was some sort of plain day skirt or traveling skirt. The sturdy fabric would wear well and wash easily...and this skirt certainly was worn; there are wear marks on some seams and one tiny wear pinhole at the bottom. Or perhaps this was a sporting skirt used for golf or long walks, although it is full length, and some pictures of the period have women wearing slightly shorter skirts for these activities. The cut is too neat and attractive, in my mind, to be just a utility or house-work skirt. 

Further, the inside is fully finished. Homemade skirt seams were often just overcast: these are strongly felled to prevent fraying. 

The skirt is a delight to wear. I tried it over a double-flounced petticoat I made following the directions from a 1991 textbook and it fits beautifully. The fabric slides over the petticoat to create a clean line, the vertical panels and shadow lines from the seams give the fabric a strong vertical, architectural, sporty, natty look, and the fabric is stiff enough and the hem heavy enough to give it body so that it does not cling to the feet or get in the way when one walks or leans. It's easy to see the value of a good wide hem in performing this function. The double flounce of the petticoat helps hold the skirt away from the feet too. 

Construction 

Nine gores. The front nearly straight and forming a subtle vertical panel, as mentioned, then two side front gores, wide-ish side gores, wide-ish side back gores, and two quite wide back gores with a seam at center back, habit style. 

The two back side gores just a teeny-tiny scant gathering in them, so slight as to be barely discernable; all other gores are eased flat into the 1/2-inch plain waistband. The placket stitching continues the line of stitching of the back seam in standard hidden-back placket style. However, the invisible effect is spoiled because there's another row of stitching about quarter inch away that betrays the rest of the placket. 

The skirt closes with three hooks and eyes; the bottom two have the flat bar-shaped eye, while the top eye is circular- or hoop-shaped for a secure closure. This hook-and-eye treatment is in approved fashion for this period. 

The skirt has a two-inch faced hem; the facing is the same material but it has been pieced in places, so we know the skirt is homemade. Other homemade touches include some less-than-perfect seaming: the hem varies a bit in width and bits of the stitching are not quite in a perfect line. 

The fabric is a heavy straight-weave cotton. It may have been dead white when new; it's the color of fresh heavy cream now. 

The front gore is cut on the straight grain. All other gores are cut so that the straight edge is on the straight of the goods, while the gored edge is on the bias. This means the back two gores meet on a fully bias seam, which produces an attractive, subtle drape, again in the approved fashion for this period, according to several contemporaneous texts of I have read. (See the texts referred to in previous blog entries.) 

Measurements 

All measurements are approximate, having been taken when the garment was laid flat. 

• waist: 27" 
• waistband: 1/2" 
• wide front gore: 37" long 6" wide at bottom 3 3/4" wide at top 
• side front gores: 37 1/2" long 14" wide at bottom 3" wide at top 
• side gores: 38 1/2" long 15" wide at bottom 2/12" wide at top 
• back side gores: 38 1/2" 12 1/2" wide at bottom 2 1/4" wide at top 
• back gores (2): 39" long 18" wide at bottom 4 1/2" wide at top barely discernable gathers only in these two gores. 
• Back center seam is between these two gores; it's 39" long 
• Sweep: approximately 125 inches (about 3.5 yards) 
• Placket: 8 1/2" deep 
• Hem: 2" deep, faced with same fabric as exterior.
• Seams: felled, with single-stitch side on exterior of skirt for nice raised effect, and double-stitched side on interior for full finish (no fraying) 

Derby Day Henhouse Hat Dress Diary

Yesterday we Kentuckians celebrated Kentucky's greatest day of the year, the Derby Day, when all the world visits Churchhill Downs to watch the Run for the Roses.

As we all know by now, Barbaro, a Kentucky born and bred horse, won handily, with another Kentucky horse, Bluegrass Cat, taking second.

And, as every year, most of us spent a goodly time considering our Derby Day sartorial situation, most especially The Hat.

This year I attended our Ladies' Tea Guild Derby Tea, and as instructed, constructed a hat worthy of the august event. It must be springlike, large, and just slightly over the top. The creation at left takes a bow to the Edwardian love of feathers, and is christened the Henhouse Hat. Why should be clear to you, as an awful lot of chickens contributed plumage.

Hat Construction

I requisitioned a favorite hat for this effort, and so constructed it that I can remove all the new trimmings without harming the original. All trims are attached with white thread using the Tie Stitch, a traditional millinery stitch...easy as pie to do, harmless to the straw hat base, and less messy than glue.

The hat itself has a four-inch brim steamed to turn inwards at the edge to frame the face.

About 2-3 inches in from the edge I applied a chicken feather boa about 4 feet long. The feathers in the boa are inserted into a loosely twisted soft cotton string core. I wound the boa around the hat in a spiral pattern. I threaded a beading needle, long and very slim, with white thread and knotted the end. Every 4-5 inches I ran this thread through the boa's core, then slipped the beading needle under a single straw -- never through a straw so as not to weaken it -- and then pulled the thread back up. I wound it once around the boa again, then tied off the thread, making sure the boa sat close to the straw. The boa managed to cover the entire top of the hat.

At the hat brim I attached a maribou boa in the same fashion, wrapping it around the entire brim and then working the remainder into the brim closer to the crown. The maribou softened and lightened the chicken feathers.

For a final touch I used Chic Boutique black rose trim...individual fabric open roses strung on a black ribbon. I sewed the strip just on the inside of the brim, taking overcast stitches at every rose and trying to ensure that the thread followed the line of the ribbon so it wouldn't be too visible. The roses anchor the feathers somehow so that the hat ends on a crisp note. Naturally the roses are a play on the roses that drape the Derby's winning horse. Hancock Fabrics carries the Chic Boutique trim line, and also the chicken feather and maribou boas.

Overflying Bird Does on My Hat: What Are the Odds?

The hat took about an hour and a half steady work. I trimmed it outside in the sunshine. What are the chances, I ask you, that while I was working a bird flying over would do on the hat in progress? But somebody did...perhaps in protest, perhaps in fear, perhaps to add its own touch. I had to cut out the offending poop with scissors and scrub my hands several times.

Wearing the Hat

When wearing a hat in the Edwardian manner, it should sit straight on the head, or be tipped to the side, and even be pulled a bit low over the eyes. The hat should never sit back on the head like a halo ready to slip off. This mode is also appropriate for wearing modern hats. Wearing it so requires you to stand straight, pull up your chin, and walk tall, which is good carriage anyhow.

Our Tea Guild members all made such pretty, dramatic, face-framing hats. If I can persuade them, I'll post a group portrait here.

A bit about the dress. The pattern is a Butterick reissue number 6582, View E (full-skirted version). Dress features crossover bodice, gathered skirt, self belt (yesterday I wore a contrasting belt to match my hat and shoes). Fabric is a feather-light Indian cotton lame in shot salmon, from Hancock's. Dress is worn with double-layered net petticoat. The inner layer is slightly shorter and features full hem. Outer layer is finished with a wide lace border sewn in binding fashion...top edge had to be sewn down too to keep it from flapping, and bottom was folded down to create scalloped edge. Pattern: Simplicity 5006, view E. Note I made drawstring waist instead of elastic, which I don't care for.

The dress is a bit loose on me this spring: the bodice should be fitted. Had I had a dress form last summer when I made it, I'd have known to alter the bodice so that the neckline was a little less high as well, perhaps by an inch or so. That way necklaces worn with it would sit better.

Instruction in Millinery

How many times have I pointed you to http://www.vintagesewing.info/? Nevertheless I'll do it again. That site offers several millinery texts online in full, illustrated. Hat design, blocking, and trimming are all covered. Texts date from the 1920s to the 1950s.

Narrow-Hemming the Bottoms of Seamed Garments: Advice from TreadleOnions

In the Corset Cover Dress Diary posts I wrote about having trouble creating fine machine hems around the bottom of the corset cover. The seams connecting the fronts and backs of the garment kept clogging the hemmer because the amount of fabric was too much. I wrote,

"It's impossible to do around the seams, though, so you have to stop near these eges and hand hem them afterwards. Not terribly efficient. Once you have a well-fitting pattern, might as well hem each piece BEFORE you seam the pieces."

So I asked the folks on TreadleOn, a super-duper online community for those who use treadle machines. Always warm and helpful, several Onions gave me tips on how they deal with the issue. I've reproduced several of them here, with a few edits for context.

• The way my grandmother taught me to do this is to clip a triangle off the seams with the widest point being at the seam itself, and the point being about 1/4" up into the seam. That leaves less fabric for the hemmer to have to turn and stitch, and works about 99% of the time. On lightweight fabrics, batise or light cotton, it works 100% of the time because there isn't that much bulk there in the first place. By just snipping 1/4", almost the entire snipped area is inside the hem, and if you press the seam open before running it through the hemmer, it's even less bulk.
  
  If you're doing heavier than light fabric, you should hand-crease the narrow hem at the seam so it will feed through the attachment properly.
  Marilyn S.SE TX
  
• I'm not sure how they did it in the bad old days, but when I cross seams with my narrow hemmer, I first make sure those seams are trimmed to reduce bulk. I usually cut a triangle from each one, such that it tapers from regular width to nothing at the raw edge. Then when I am sewing along and get close, I stop and remove the hem from the "curl" of the foot. Using my fingers, I fold the hem as narrow and as flat as I can over the seam, then stitch across it as neatly as I possible, with the foot riding totally on top of the hem. Once past the seam, I stop and re-insert the fold into the "curl" and proceed to the next obstruction.
  Jennifer, Calgary, AB
  
• I usually [do] the tuck[ing] or hem[ming] before sewing the seams. Recently I tried it the other way on a petticoat and it just didn't work. I usually finish my seams by pressing the seam open and then turning each seam allowance under and stitching down the folded edge. Not period authentic, but it looks nice and wears well.
  Annie, Pennsylvania

Thank you, Onions!