Friday, June 25, 2010

1795-1797 Printed Indian Muslin Open Robe for Polly, Part 1

Important Note, 11/07/10: this entry is being rewritten and is in progress.

As part of the preparations for the Jane Austen Festival, I made Polly an open robe. This one is made of a sheer fine, soft muslin hand block-printed in India. The fabric just floats and is amazingly similar to the drape and patterning on extant garments I have seen pictures of.  In fact, have a gander at the image of a similar dress, in the Design section below.

The next paragraphs cover high points of its making.  If the verb tenses in this diary switch around a bit, it's because I reworked some in-progress blog entries and then added a good bit of material.

Level of Authenticity

On starting the robe, I wrote:

The garment, which is lined in white linen, is assembled entirely by hand using seam techniques and stitches from Costume Close-up and Costume in Detail because the muslin is so fine that mounting it with a machine might risk risk pulling and tearing it and I cannot afford to waste a scrap. Besides, gives a far more authentic feel in the result. Plus it's easier not to get a machine out.

Further, in line with period practice, part of the garment is actually sewn upon her. Pins bother me when fitting, anyway, so most pieces have been recut and then basted directly on her. She's patient :} Here, for example, I have just lengthened a sleeve and am cutting the front edge on the fly so that it will hang elegantly down over her knuckles. How could I have done this properly if she was not wearing the toile? The completed garment can be worn with the sleeves over the knuckles or pushed back to ruche a bit up the arm. Extant sources? See Janet Arnold.

When it comes time to set the sleeves, I will sew them right in place on her in order to get the best fit. Once again, Costume Close-Up explains how this was done.  What a gem of a book. Linda Baumgartner and her colleagues are terrific curators, too...their Colonial Williamsburg eMuseum site is far and away the most informative in its garment documentation of any museum site I've yet uncovered.

Photo: Cutting the front edge of a sleeve toile while Polly wears it. The sleeve original from Jennie Chancey has been lengthened -- you can see where I basted on the extension and I am cutting the shape of it.  After the picture was taken I cut some more and then hemmed the edge to get a final sense of the look, and then narrowed the fit of the entire sleeve to the very tight fit for the 1790s.

The Design
[insert 1793 dress image]

Unlike Laura's robe, this robe is fitted in front and pinned shut at center front like earlier round gowns, since Polly prefers a more tailored look.  The overall design is taken from extant examples in Nancy Bradfield's Costume in Detail,  along with pictures of dresses from the Metropolitan Museum of Art, Colonial Williamsburg, a dress from the Kent State University Age of Nudity exhibition, and this dress, shown in the image, for which I embarassingly have no documentation. It comes from a blog called Pride and Sensibility: Women's History Through the Ages, and is, I understand, from England.  What I have changed from the design you see is to remove the deep point at the center front, like several dresses in the Bradfield book, and have kept the waistline just above the waist.

Basic Construction
Once again, I used the Sense and Sensibility ELC pattern as a fitting base, but all bodice pieces were lengthened by two inches and then the back was recut to new shapes more in line with the mid 1790s, straps cut from the original front piece, and the front entirely redraped and recut to suit her, and with the addition of two bust darts.

[image of Polly]

The darts created themselves when the fronts were draped on her, and it was fun to look at Costume Close-Up and see the darts in extant examples in exactly the same places. I wish I had taken more detailed pictures and notes at this juncture, but the festival by then being two months away or less, that did not happen.



Attaching the Skirt

A few weeks later...

Each evening after the twins are in bed, it's sewing time. Am so close on Polly's open robe! At this point I have pleated and whipped the skirt on to the bodice.

The bottom of the bodice is finished by turning the lining and dress fabric raw edges inwards to each other and then sewing them with spaced backstitch. Should Polly want to trade out the style for another one or even wear the bodice as a spencer (you see this treatment in Heideloff fashion plates), she can easily, for the bodice could stand alone.

In tune with practice of the day, the skirt is made of two full-width panels of the dress fabric.  Conveniently, only one side of the fabric features the banding pattern, so on the selvage sans banding, I sewed the two panels with a 3/16" or so seam in combination stitch (running stitch with a backstitch every needleful). Because the fabric is so light and translucent, I felt it necessary to sew medium-close stitches, perhaps 10 to the inch. The selvages with the banding serve as the skirt front decoration, something you see in extant robes.

The robe is quite full, perhaps a little fuller than most were, at 90". However, I did not want to cut the panels, for then they could not be reused later, and the fabric is so sheer that I worried about tearing. Best to keep it whole. This seems to be the attitude mantua makers took whenever they could.

Photo: Robe from the side. The fine muslin is very sheer and it's billowing into a circular shape in the breeze from a fan.

Again due to the very sheer, light fabric, I probably ought to have gathered the panels, but chose to pleat them instead: Polly likes a tailored effect. I examined all the open robes in Janet Arnold's book from 1780 onwards, and found that pleating practice varied, so, taking what I hope is a late eighteenth-century view of options, I concentrated the deepest pleating at center back, with a series of three double inverted box pleats to either side of a central inverted double box pleat that is centered on the center back seam. Knife pleats facing outwards then travel to approximately under the arm. Then from the front selvage back to the underarm, the pleats face backwards. Therefore we avoid the potentially awkward flow of a pleat at the front opening out towards the front in an unflattering manner.

The box pleats bothered me a bit because I am not sure they were extensively used, except in saque backs. However, I had 90" wide of fabric to gather into a 24" space, since I wanted to attain the favored cutaway look, and I couldn't do it and maintain 1/2" wide pleats without stacking some of them. With the fabric so sheer, the result is not bulky so I hope it's a plausible solution. (An edit: Renna_darling wrote me to say that Costume in Detail features such pleating treatments, and to please see pages 83-84. Thank you kindly!)

Then I whipped the skirt onto bottom of the bodice.

The Sleeves...Ooph
The sleeves have been a problem. Somehow, despite a well-fitting toile, I cut them too big and too long and when I fit them on Polly, great was the OH, NO factor. How in the world... As Jennie La Fleur calls, them, sleevils!

Whatever. We recut them and I sewed one on Polly and pleated the sleeve head to the bodice but it was clunky, and in frustration that evening I went back to Costume Close Up, to find that the Sense and Sensibility pattern's sleeve really only works for a gathered head sleeve. More fitted sleeve heads have a strange, angular shape. I checked the sleeves on my own robe, which Jenni and I had cut on the fly to fit, and sure enough, there was that angular shape, in line with originals.

Photo: the robe from the front...you can see the skirt puffing out courtesy a breeze from a fan, and the sunshine coming through at the back.

So tonight or tomorrow, it's back to fitting them to Polly. She has been so patient...

At this point I wrote...So there we are. I have two weeks left and have to finish my robe (hard), two outer petticoats (easy) for Polly and I, and an under petticoat for me (easy), and cover a hat and shoes, and do a reticule (easy), and deal with hair (hard or easy, we shall see).

My goodness. These months later, as I complete the documentation of the project, it is hard to remember just how intense those weeks were, for not only was I doing the above, but I had the family to care for, springtime outdoor work, and a job. Goodness. I am not likely research, coordinate, and make, so many garments for so many people all at once for quite awhile.

Friday, June 11, 2010

1790s Project Update: a Quick Strapped Petticoat

My goodness, have we been busy bees lately! Getting ready for this festival is a great deal of fun but it is occupying whatever leisure or late moments I have and almost my dreams.

As Always, please click the images to see larger versions.

I would imagine that Jenni and Polly might say the same. See what Jenni has been doing over at Living with Jane and you will see what I mean.  From very good fake Regency men's boots to an entirely handsewn straw capote (!) and mitts she has done it all. Hats, off, Jenni, you take my breath away.

Polly has been almost as busy, finishing the skirts to the bodiced petticoat bodice I made for her...and this week, undertaking a hand-drafted buckram base for a hat based on a 1790s Heideloff fashion plate.  I am to cover and trim it. Polly is an extraordinarily talented milliner so it will be really, really neat so see how she takes a fashion plate and runs with it. Did I say really twice? Meant to repeat it thrice.

A Strapped Petticoat

Then Caroline, who is relearning to sew, hand-sewed the strapped petticoat you see in the image, while I did the cutting and fitting. This was a fun project. Since we're recreating 1790s, petticoats are somewhat full, and two full panels of 45" good-quality muslin gives an appropriate look.

Here is all we did, girls and boys. It's not hard and can be undertaken sans pattern and sans experience. All you need, really, is fabric, needle and thread, and a measuring tape or string, and some  1" and 1/8" twill tape.

Make the skirt tube:
  • Measured her from below the bust to the floor.
  • Cut two lengths of muslin to this measuremant plus an inch for hem allowance and seam allowance at the waist.
  • Caroline seamed them together into a tube. Each seam is about a 1/4", made with combination stitch...a needleful of running stitches followed by a backstitch, repeated to the end of the seam.
  • Then we held the skirt up to her to check the fit and since she is very slender, we did not need to cut the front at the waist into a dip or do anything else to level the skirt hem on her body. Notice that we are leveling the skirt at the waistline, not at the floor! So much easier to do a skirt this way.
Hem the skirt and make the placket:

Photo: Caroline in her strapped petticoat at the second fitting. I have just set the straps and we are about to create two tucks at the skirt hem.
  • She hemmed the skirt bottom with a 1/2" hem (turned twice), with running stitch. Stitches were set towards the top of the hem.
  • I made a 9" deep slit at the center of one panel to serve as a placket.
  • Caroline made a 1/8" double-turned hem to each side of the slit with conbination stitch.
Set the waistband:
  • I measured her chest below the bust but not right below, consistent with the mid-1790s waistline height, and cut a two-inch wide strip of muslin for a waistband to this measurement plus 1" for allowances.
  • We folded the waistband in half.
  • Caroline ran a single row of gethering stitches a scant 1/2" below the waistline seam. Each stitch was about 1/8" or a little more long. Normally we would have done two rows plus stroking, but we chose a simple route.
  • Now, I learned from The Historical Sewing Blog (thank you) that the best look was achieved in this era by moderately gathering or pleating the front, minimally gathering or pleating the sides, and heavily gathering or pleating the back.  This mode would produce the slenderest silhouette from the front.
  • So, I set the waistband on  Caroline, and on each side, marked it at the front of her side and the back of  her side, if that makes sense -- that is, marked out the thickness of her body front to back -- with chalk.
  • We then gathered the skirt to the waistband marks, and completed the waistband just the same as I had last fall for my stroked gathered mid-century petticoat.  The process and stitches, so far as I can see from Costume Close-Up, are pretty much the same. We did not add a button for closure.
  • Look carefully at the photos and examine the waistband. You will see that the front is somewhat gathered, the sides barely so and the back very so and the result on Caroline is lovely. She carries herself so well that she could wear a barrel and still be chic, but still, I think you see what I am getting at.
Assemble straps and skirt tucks and skirt closure:
  • Caroline tried on the skirt. I cut two pieces of 1" wide twill tape and set them over her shoulders out towards the arm joint.  Pinned them in place in front and back and marked them with chalk. Sewed them to the inside of the waistband with backstitches, sewing a little square shape at top and bottom of the waistband and each edge of the tape.
  • At the same try-on, I set a 1/2" tuck some six-eight inches above the hem to take the skirt up off the floor, and Caroline sewed the tuck with running stitch while I sewed the straps...we were both working at the same time at either end of the skirt! :}
  • Then we set a second 1/2" tuck below it, leaving about 3/4" space between the tucks so that if the petticoat is seen both tucks will  appear as separate pretty shadows. Caroline then sewed that tuck. The two 1/2" tucks eat a total of 2", setting the skirt the right height above the floor for the period. If it proves a little long, another tuck remedies the issue.
  • The last step is to attach two 1/8" wide tapes to each placket end so she can tie the skirt closed.
The entire project was pretty quick and fun: I hope Caroline enjoyed it and I love fitting garments to people by sight like this.

Friday, June 04, 2010

Their Third Birthday


Babies no more, babies no more. Welcome to boyhood, tots!

The twins turned three on Monday and it's been a week of joy and reminiscences as a result. They are of an age to ask, "Mama, tell us about when we were babies", and for me to reply, "Well, when you were babies, you would wrap your little hand around my finger, like this [demonstrating] and you were so tiny we had to carry you everywhere!" The age to want to look at our photo albums. The age to ask for stories: "Tell about the bat, Mama, about the shutters, Mama, about when you and Daddy found our house, Mama, about how we got Ladybug kitty, Mama..." The age to want these tales over and over again as bedtime stories.

The age to receive a four-by-eight-foot sandbox that Curte built for them as their birthday gift.

Oh, I miss my babies, but oh, I love my boys.

We  had chocolate cupcakes with animal crackers stood atop them instead of birthday cake. The cupcakes are made from a recipe Mom has had since girlhood,  and so it dates to somewhere during the 1950s. It came from a newspaper, I believe, and produces a very moist, chocolatey result without fancy ingredients.

Wanting to gild the lily? Add chocolate chips? Wanting to 24-carat gild the lily? Make them fancy dark chocolate chips.

Betty's Chocolate Cake

1/3 cup shortening
1 cup sugar
1 egg
4 tablespoons cocoa
1 1/3 cups flour
1 teaspoon baking powder
1 teaspoon baking soda
1/4 teaspoon salt
1 cup boiling water
1 teaspoon vanilla

Mom did not include the directions to mix up the cake, but this is basically what to do:

In a mixing bowl, cream the shortening and sugar.
Beat in the egg.
Sift the dry ingredients into a different bowl.
Fold the dry ingredients into the batter.
Slowly add the water and vanilla.
Put into a baking dish and bake 35-40 minutes at 350 degrees F.

Thursday, May 20, 2010

A Side Trip into Food History

Do you dream of baking a pudding in a cast iron pan or roasting a goose over hot coals? Do you see in your mind's eye a tall, white-frosted cake scattered with candied violets? So do I.

So have I, in fact, for many years. Long ago I wrote a master's thesis about cooking and eating habits among a group of people in Atlanta, Georgia. Historians give that branchlet of research the name "foodways", among other monikers. Back then it seems most of us relied on written resources to learn about what how people prepared food, how they ate it, and why.

Photo: screen capture of the Bites of Food History blog.

You can't eat paper, though, nor smell a dish through paper, nor know how your arms and hands feel when you have hefted a pot from coals, or tested the temperature of an unreliable gas oven, or kneaded a dough with your fingers.

So I am happy to see that food history has gone concrete and that historians, professional or amateur, are testing the foodways of days long past with their eyes and arms and fingers and tastebuds. Here are two blogs that I find particularly fun and useful. There are many more out there. Do you have favorites you would like to share?

Bites of Food History
Historian Susan McLellan Plaisted's experiments in cheesemaking, brining, baking, ice cream making, chocolate making from cacao seeds (yes, that's right), roasting on a string...

The Old Foodie
"Every weekday I give you a short story on a food history topic, always including a historic recipe, and sometimes a historic menu. And how much fun is that!
" From food writer Janet Clarkson.

Photo: screen capture of The Old Foodie blog.

Happy tasting!

Thursday, May 13, 2010

Transition Stays: Transposition Exposed

The last few months several evenings per week after the tots have gone to sleep have been devoted to completing a pair of Past Patterns Transition Stays (the heavily boned version circa 1796-1806). They have been, generally speaking, a pleasure to create, for like other Saundra Ros Altman patterns, the product is high quality and superbly documented. Making them has given me a good dose of experience in18th century stitches and construction methods, and the attention to detail required has suited my temperament. Yet...

...those who prefer to examine the needles on the trees, even more than the trees themselves, should beware of the forest.

Small, even stitching isn't worth a pile of pins when part of the stays have been assembled upside down.

Photo: Past Patterns "Transition Stay" Fashionable Circa 1796-1806

Sunday, May 02, 2010

Dress Diary: Laura's 1795-1797 Robe and Petticoat, Part 1

Background

Part of our group at the Jane Austen Festival. Laura in her
new open robe ensemble is second from left.
This robe has had quite an evolution. At last summer's Jane Austen Festival, Laura picked up a lovely Indienne fabric, a block print on dark red background of stylized tulips, and she dreamed of having a Regency dress made from it, in a tall, columnar style of the 1800s.

As always, please click on each image to see a larger version.

Enter our 1790s project. As most of you know by now, several of the rest of us in the period sewing group have been planning for the 2010 festival, and our project centers on ensembles from the very roots of the Regency, the 1790s. Since Laura's block print was perfect for that era in both pattern style and the mid-weight of the cotton, Jenni and I persuaded her to back up a decade and try a round gown. We decided to use several extant robes and round gowns as the design and construction basis for this gown.

First, a circa 1785 peach-colored open robe and matching petticoat, from the 2007 "The Age of Nudity" exhibit at Kent State.


Second, a circa 1798-1805 brown silk round gown, item 1447, from Karen Augusta. Note: the item is described as silver in the title; I do not know why.


Additional ideas came from a lovely circa 1795-1810 block print round gown in the Colonial Williamsburg collection.



Then followed weeks of mockups, secondary research in all the usual suspects (documented below), a great deal of online searching, and the valued assistance, kindness, and support of costume experts Dawn Luckham and Suzi Clarke.
 
Enter an obstacle: after working out the bodice, Jenni discovered that we might not have enough fabric for the gown. Not a pleasant feeling, after all the work...

Until, and let us complete the theatrical segue to its conclusion, enter a solution. Jenni decided to morph the gown into an open robe and to make a petticoat to go underneath. Here's an example from the Victoria and Albert Museum, a circa 1795-1800 block-printed glazed cotton robe, lined with linen.
 


As these extant garments tell you, better than my previous posts showing the history of some 1790s fashions as they were shown in paintings and drawings of the day, the round gown and open robe have their forbears in the closed and open robes of earlier decades. While the round gown, as we discovered in our research, showed a number of structural adaptations and innovations in construction that would result in a few years in later Regency dress construction, the open robe was a much clearer descendent of open robes from previous decades. It could be constructed with a back in one piece, pleated and tacked to a lining, like mantuas from earlier in the century (and see the well-known early Regency open robe in Janet Arnold, p. 43), or with a wholly separate bodice, with the skirts attached to the bottom (see for example the polonaise in Janet Arnold, p. 37).
 
What follows then, is a wonky dress diary, because the photo documentation starts out with our idea for a round gown sporting three drawstrings, from neckline, to underbust and then highish waist circa 1795, and morphs to a robe like the V&A example above. If you get a little confused at times reading it -- mmm-- so did we :}  All a big experiment, another essay. Gee, I do a lot of those, don't I? Laura, we're glad you do not mind playing guinea pig.  
 
Level of Accuracy in Construction
 
The Jane Austin Festival's in ten weeks. Jenni and friends and I have been researching and constructing for months and months now, and Jenni and I have several ensembles to complete for spouses and friends and ourselves. Therefore, while we want to produce a garment whose cut and overall construction could have been used in period, and so we have documented our decisions at every turn, we are mixing handsewing and machine sewing. C'est la vie.
 
Patterning the Gown...Erm...Open Robe
 
We used the Sense and Sensibility Elegant Ladie's Closet pattern back pieces, cut to Laura's size, as a raw base to work from.(Note: We lengthened all the pieces at the bottom so that we could cut the dress with the lower waistline of the mid-1790s.)
 
 
Our goal was to "back up" the pattern to an earlier time period. For this, we used Nancy Bradfield's Costume in Detail: 1730-1930 (pp. 69, 73-75) as our guide. We noted from this book, as well as from extant examples (see especially that brown silk gown link above), that earlier in the century mantuamakers managed an elongated, elegant back by cutting or pleating the back such that it featured a number of long curved seams. By the end of the century, the really high waist made such a look impossible, and the back ended up rather tiny, with center focus on a small to tiny diamond-shaped piece.
 
An aside: If you have the Bradfield book, just for fun do page through the 18th century section and watch the design of the back pieces change. The diamond shape is an outgrowth of what came before. Not that all the experimentation always went the same exact way. In the Karen Augusta brown silk round gown , the narrow panels are retained; the diamond pattern is there but it is stretched downwards, almost like an upside-down spear point. The mantuamaker cleverly used skirt pleating to reverse the elongation, so that viewed as a whole, the effect is like an hour glass, or rays from a central spot at the waist. It's gorgeous.
 
In the 1790s, we were in middling ground, neither very long-waisted nor very high-waisted. Further, Bradfield's book details a number of dresses which had been remade from earlier dresses, and still featured lovely, elongated back pieces. That's the direction we went.
 
Here is the pattern in the process of cutting it to an earlier look. Jenni did all this in Swedith tracing paper. We left the pieces long so that we can fit the bodice to a waist height that suited Laura. Jenni made several mockups this way.
 
 
Jenni next made up a toile. Here I am attempting to fit it to Laura. The little goddess headpiece I've got on? We had a Useful Things Swap that morning, and that's one of the new 1950s treasures that made its home here.
 
 
Here's the bodice on Laura, with the back marked at a waistline she liked. We worked out some of the wrinkles after this. The sides needed pulling in, and the armscyes cutting.
 
 
Here's the front. I had requested of Jenni that she design the toile front pieces like those for a 1780s gown, but elongated, and with the center front angled longer at top than at bottom so that when gathered with drawstrings at top, underbust and waistline, the center front would be vertical.
 
I cannot tell you how many Nancy Bradfield drawings, Norah Waugh diagrams (The Cut of Women's Clothes), Costume Close-Up diagrams, plus every other diagram I could find, even from early 20th century books, and photos of extant garments, I examined trying to figure out how to work this.
 
Our intent at the time was to produce a very lightly gathered front, as in the Karen Augusta brown silk gown; since the fabric is midweight, too many gathers might look heavier than Laura might like, methought. I knew from a 1770s extant gown and reconfigured 1790s gowns in Nancy Bradfield, that some robes in the 1770s and 80s used drawstrings as fitting aids, so that the angled front would be necessary.
 
Further, since the brown silk gown is fully lined in the bodice, we decided to do the same here, and run the the drawstrings in channels between the lining and fashion fabric, as I saw in a Antique Dress Gallery 1770s polonaise (item 5092), in Bradfield, and per Dawn Luckham.
 
 
Showing the drawstring at work. More details on the sewing method in a later post.
 
 
In the event, that idea only worked mezzo-mezzo.
 
 
Mmmm. Hmmm.
 
 
Reworking the fit.
 
 
The toile, with the bodice fronts trimmed away a bit.
 
 
After Jenni and Laura and I were happy with the fit, Laura cut out the lining pieces. Here they are, lined up in the order in which they will be sewn. They include seam allowances of 5/8". Ordinarily I would use less, but it's good to have width to work with when you will be doing at least one more fitting. Note, because we found it more accurate, we ended up cutting off the straps (that means cutting the uppermost projections from the pieces to the far left and right), and attaching them separately.
 
 
Cutting the Actual Robe

As always, we started with the bodice. Jenni used the fitted lining as the master template from which to cut the fashion fabric.


Here is the bodice cut out in the fashion fabric. Jenni is very precise in her cutting, which is a must for this sort of dress. Fudging will affect your fit in really frustrating ways.

A Bit About Eighteenth Century Seam-Sewing Conventions

It was a common practice for eighteenth century mantuamakers to construct their bodices by treating the fashion fabric and the lining fabric as a unit, sewing each to the other in a single operation. Here, though, is the kicker: the seams were turned in during the sewing so that when a seam was sewn, not only would two fashion fabric pieces be attached to one another, but the lining would be attached as well, and get this: the seams would be finished, too. No raw edges to finish.

Very clever, I think. Saves massive amounts of time and energy, which for a woman sewing all by hand, would have been critical. Think of this. In Fanny Burney's Evelina, if I am not mistaken, Evelina is fitted for and receives a complete new "suit" of clothes in just a few days. I understand from other sources that this sort of speed has been documented in extant records.

Methought actually doing seams this way might be quite simple. Indeed, once we got the hang of it, Jenni and I did not find it too difficult, but it could be fiddly. If I were to keep constructing clothes this way, I am sure I could speed up a good bit, but to date these fingers still are a bit slow.

There are quite a number of variations on this seam sewing method. For my money, the best descriptions and illustrations are offered in Linda Baumgartner's Costume Close-Up, right in the first chapter.

After reading and sketching, Jenni and I settled on one of the Costume Close-Up methods, as illustrated by Jenni below:


Constructing the Bodice Back

First thing to note: Jenni constructed this dress by machine. While she used the seam technique described above, she did not sew each piece to its neighbor individually. Instead, she pinned all the pieces together, and then sewed them on the machine at once.

She started by constructing the back of the bodice first. As you can see from the pictures above, each side of the back is a mirror image of the other. Each side of the back is composed of a back piece, an inner back piece, and a side back piece.

For each seam, Jenni
  • folded in the raw edges of the first lining piece to the depth of the seam allowance
  • folded in the raw edges of the first fashion fabric to the depth of the seam allowance
  • Did the same for the second lining and fashion fabric pieces
  • Nested the pieces together as in the drawing above, so that all the seam allowances lined up
  • Pinned the pieces together on the seam line.
You can see an example below. Jenni has already pinned together one inner back and back piece (for the left side of the back of the bodice) and is in the process of folding in the fabric for the inner back piece of the other side.


Here is a picture, taken from the side, of a seam prepared and pinned. All the raw edges are turned in, and the pieces are nested together as they will be sewn, and pinned. Do, please click on the image, to see each layer of fabric identified.


Here is another photo, below, of the fashion fabric and lining nested. You are looking at an armscye (armhole), and Jenni is getting ready to sew the side seam underneath it. You can see how the lining and fashion fabric for the front piece (towards the right of the photo) are nested with the lining and fashion fabric of the side back piece (towards the left of the photo).

Once all the pieces of the back of the bodice were pinned together, she pinned the fronts together and their straps together, pinned the fronts to the backs, and set the entire bodice on the stand and checked the result.

Then she sewed all the seams down. She told me later that for some seams this went well, while for others she found she had issues with all four layers staying together properly, and ended up sewing or resewing several seams, with just three layers, hemming down the innermost lining layer. Here is an example:


Do you see the center back opening in the image above? She could have machine sewed it, right sides together, so that no one side would have overlapped the other. Instead, she chose to do some handwork here. She whipstitched the seam, as you see below. She placed right sides together, and set the whipstitching quite close to the edge.

In the museum images of garments that I have looked at, the central back seam was often whipstitched. Once the seam was sewn, the pieces were carefully opened out, like the pages in a spiral-bound notebook, until the seam laid flat. There is no ridge. Just to double-check, I consulted Nancy Bradfield's Costume in Detail and Linda Baumgartner's Costume Close-Up to make sure.


Here is how it looks from the outside:

...and the inside.


Constructing the Bodice: Front

Remember how at the beginning of this post I wrote that the design changed midstream? Due to a shortage of fabric, Jenni could not give the open robe the longer waistline and multiple rows of gathering found on early 1790s open robes. She opted for a very simple gathered front, quite high-waisted, with both the neckline and waistline gathered.

The front is in three pieces, then. Side front, shoulder strap, and the gathered front part.

Also remember that we altered the basic S&S pattern, in which the shoulder straps are integral to the front piece...a development which became popular, I understand, right near the end of the century. Because we were backing up the design a few years, we opted to lop off the shoulder straps and add them back separately, so that you'd have the expected seams that sit above the bust on each side. Here is that seam pinned in place:


Oop, a bit of a problem. you'll see that the strap and the side front didn't quite match with the front. Mmm. Look very carefully at the photo below...she had to fudge a bit, like we often do, and the Original Cast did too. By the way, you can see the tripartite front construction very clearly here.


Here it is from the front, sewn. Looks very nice. A reminder not to freak at little issues like this.


And from the back. You can see that three layers were stitched, then she photographed the below, with the seam allowance on the lining ready to be hemmed down.


Once the straps were sewn on, the garment looked like the below, all laid out,  fronts, which look like short wings spread out at the sides.


On each front piece, between the lining and the fashion fabric, she sewed a drawstring right into the shoulder seam, nesting it between the lining and fashion fabric layers. It's made of 1/8" twill tape. This is used to gather the neckline. Another is at the bottom.

The fronts were finished by turning in the raw edges down the center front closures, and ditto for the front bottom, and sewing them together. As I did not participate in this part of the construction design, I cannot recall whether she handstitched or machine stitched these seams, and if she did them right sides together or top-stitched them, as would have been period.

She also overcast the neckline seam, all the way around. The rights sides of lining and fashion fabric facing out, per usual, she turned in the seam allowance for fashion fabric and lining inwards. Then she whipstitched the neckline all the way around, per the below.



Once pretty much sewn up, here is what she had:


and...


The basic bodice, once constructed. You can see the twill tape tie that holds the bodice bottom closed. The bodice may be pinned shut along the center front, too, if desired.



If you wish to see more images, see Jenni's Photobucket album to see things rather in order of construction. Start at page 4 and work your way back to page 1.

The Rest of the Story, and More...
  • See Part 2 for the completion of this garment.
  • See 1790s: Costumes and Research Documentation
    I've done a number of costumes, Jenni has done many more, and I've posted reams of documentation, including looks at portrait miniatures, translations from a German fashion magazine, looks at Gallery of Fashion, and so on.
We're having a blast with this era :}

Tuesday, April 27, 2010

Inaugurating the Pizza Oven at Sunwise Farm and Sanctuary

Last Saturday, heavy clouds and drizzle parted for a few hours as our sewing circle gathered at Kathleen and Greg's farm to celebrate spring and the new outdoor oven they had built.

The evening before Kathleen and Greg and home-ground grain and prepared dough for four pizzas, and more for six loaves of bread and lots of rolls. It's likely they prepared the fixings for homemade yogurt, too. Then, as the morning light dribbled in, Greg stepped out and lit the oven with wood culled from the farm, so that by 8:30 it was well started, and would be ready about noon, some 800-900 degrees hot.

We made our way there by ten, and stepped out of our vehicles into, as Jenni put it, a place out of time. The gardens are lush with lavender, and melissa, varieties of thymes and others I cannot name at sight, countless perennials, a happy fig tree, spinach and vegetables intermixed. The wall at the edge of the drive is made of lilac in full, gorgeous scented bloom, barely-blue iris, grown for orris root as much as for their beauty, beneath. There are standing stones, honeysuckle at the end of a walk through the minute valley, views of distant hills beyond, a cozy house that they built full of air and light and Kathleen's gentle paintings and artwork, smelling like tincture of heaven and also of coffee and toasted grain.

The bees are hard at work in their boxes: they caught four swarms last week. We tasted last year's honey, and I grew greedy for it, because it tastes like every happy herb and flower you can name plus the love of bees, but alas, it's saved for bee tea.
We watched as Greg prepared the oven he had built, that they had painted and Kathleen had smoothed with slaked lime, an oven so sturdy it might easily last until our grandchildren's children are adults.

We gathered round to watch as coals were swept back, peels brought out, the heat radiating around us, and Greg placed the first pizza in. It sizzles, and flames licked the coals far back in the oven. Two minutes later, and he pulled it out, and there it was, the first pizza, and we ate that and most of three more out under the trees, new mown grass scent in the air, with birdsong and distant mooing and a cockadoodle-dooing as serenade.
The tots rambled the gardens and porch, rested their bare little feet on Cai, who is so Corgi-cute that I could just hug him about twenty times an hour, we talked about fresco-painting and bread and what the stars tell and prayer and gardens.
We planned more Regency gown details in Kathleen's studio. The boys hugged whatever person seemed most convenient at the moment, Cai had his ears scratched, no one worried about gathering clouds, knowing by instinct that they'd come in good time, after we had visited bee boxes and were ready to wend our way back to time.
Alas that not all of us could be there, but thank you Kathleen, and Greg, for the most blessed day one could ask for.