“Les Tubes de Patrick”

     Simplicity of form and function never loses out on being stylish and is eternally useful.  On the flip side, just because something is basic doesn’t mean it has to be base and without ornament.  An utterly simple shape is all that is need to tie either a functional closure that humans have used since the beginning of civilization or fashion one of the world’s most popular decoration.  I am referring to a bow.  The inclusion of a bow in the daily life may be thought of as no more than a gift package trimming, a piece of neckwear, a hair ornament, or even a necessary means to secure one’s shoes.  Yet, “The history of bows ties back to Neolithic times. Ancient men and women alike wore their hair bound with ribbon, often tied in a bow knot” explains Isabella Moritz, a fashion scholar who is one of the graduate students curating a recent popular exhibition on such a topic.  Fascinating, right?!

     The fabulous Fashion Institute of Technology museum in New York recently closed its exhibit for March, entitled “Untying the Bow”.  The exhibition, created by graduate students in the college of FIT, explores “the impact of bows as they transcended their humble utilitarian origins to become a sophisticated and influential component of personal style.”  The display may be closed for now, but it presented a topic still worth revisiting, as bows continue to be relevant today.   

     I did not myself visit the museum’s exhibit, but the many press write-ups, pictures shared, and related articles make it clear how the decade of the 1980s (in particular) weighed prominently on the topic in the presentation. “Bows on cocktail dresses and evening gowns are a hallmark of 1980s fashion excess” says the exhibit’s textual information.  However, I would like to challenge such a statement and show how bows were not always a mark of finery or for superfluous display in the 1980s, but explored in ways both unexpected and new by the “American in Paris” fashion designer Patrick Kelly.  More on this further down in my post!  Until then, let me show you the project I whipped together inspired by some of the pieces by Patrick Kelly that calls back to the Parisian beginnings of his career.

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  a soft polyester rib knit

PATTERN:  none!

NOTIONS NEEDED:  just thread

TIME TO COMPLETE:  This dress was made in only a few hours – one hour for drafting the dress, one hour to sew and fit it, and two hours to make and tack down to bows

THE INSIDES:  The fabric does not ravel and there are very few seams, so the edges are left raw.

TOTAL COST:  I bought the fabric at Hobby Lobby, and paid $20 for 2 ½ yards.  This was my only cost.

     My inspiration piece here (yellow, at left) is from the winter of 1984.  Patrick Kelly had arrived in Paris, France, back in 1979.  After a few years of doing fashion related jobs such as theater costumes, freelance work, and interning under designer Paco Rabanne’s atelier, he was itching to have his own design line.  Offering dresses such as this one on the streets of Paris or to models leaving the runways of Ungaro or Saint Laurent helped him build up a buzz around his namesake brand within the city’s burgeoning fashion scene.  It is a simple sleeveless, ribbed knit dress presented in solid, bold, primary colors.  This style of dress was embellished with bows, which Patrick Kelly sometimes added in an even row down the front center, but most often were spaced down the back side.  Such a style makes for a classy, unexpected version of the basic tank dress of modern times. 

     Along with his one seam cocoon coat (which will have its own project post on my blog soon), varieties of these dresses became a go-to design for him.  Patrick Kelly employed seamless manufactured tube material he found on discount at the d’Aligre outdoor market in Paris as his base for such creations. Such a simple start helped him eventually sew enough offerings for his first ready-to-wear collection to be presented in Paris.  These creative and attractive tubular garments were first mass marketed in the 1985 Elle magazine as “Les Tubes de Patrick” (seen above at right).  Bow bedecked frocks followed in his popular button embellished dresses in widespread fame, and thus Patrick Kelly made many different versions to expand his repertoire.  My favorite rendering is a bold red dress with black tulle bows anchored by glitzy ball buttons.  Most of the extant (surviving) versions I see as part of museum collections have bows made from the same fabric as the dress.  This feature is what I channeled for my interpretation. 

     As I mentioned in a post (here) where I made my own version of his “buttons dress”, Patrick Kelly’s sewing skills were rudimentary when he began his brand and so these tube tank dresses were a very convenient way for him to be innovative on his own terms.  Yet, just because Patrick Kelly was “cutting corners” to accommodate his level of sewing doesn’t mean he was skimping for his designs.  It takes a lot of forethought to reduce the complexity of clothing’s construction without compromising the idealized style or shape!  Thus, when he wanted to branch out to more than adding on buttons to existing garments, he worked with seamless rib-knit tubes in order to easily create these bow-embellished dresses.  I will dive into more of the details behind these tube dresses in an exciting project post to come! 

     As the info in “The Facts” gives away, this post’s version of Patrick Kelly’s 1985 bow-embellished tube dress was completely self-drafted.  I did not yet have a manufactured tube of material to work with so I could interpret this dress the exact way Patrick Kelly did in this instance.  Nevertheless, I remembered other designs in which he found ways to have just one or two seams so as to avoid as much sewing as possible.  Yet, I didn’t want to copy Patrick Kelly, just clothe myself with his creative spirit.  I had to find my very own way to re-invent the basic tank dress, making it more effortless to come together than it is to tie a simple bow.  I therefore created a bare-bones, easy-to-sew design that only has one major seam. When I started off this post referring to minimalism in design, I was serious!

     I did a dizzying amount of figuring over the course of an hour to end up with just what I had in mind.  I challenged myself to avoid looking at my drafting books or even an existing pattern from my stash to only work off of my own understanding of how garments work, an intimate knowledge of my body’s quirks, and way too much math.  I happily nailed my ideal dress on the first try!  There was literally no tweaking or adjustments needed after it was sewn together.

     My greatest upgrade to the design was to make a creative hemline.  I was trying to eliminate seams, right?  Well, the hem is always a problem seam to stitch without waffling in the stretchiest fabrics like ribbing.  I had to estimate where I wanted the dress to fall and then I lay out the fabric with the hemline on the fold.  Early on, I knew I would be doubling up the layers of the fabric to have opacity, a stable stretch, and a cozy comfort, anyway.  I just took advantage of that plan to get rid of the need for more stitching.  I did need to sew down the bias bands I cut out to cover over the arm and neck edges.  However, I stitched “in the ditch” as it is called to keep this dress smooth with no visible thread.  Clean finishing techniques are always to be found in high-end pieces, and I wanted to bring the aura of that to my custom-made, designer-inspired garment.

    I realize my drafting did change the whole idea of this particular Patrick Kelly dress.  No matter how basic, my dress is still seamed into shape.  Nevertheless, the key principle of his design process is adhered to in my own method of drafting.  The finished silhouette remains practically the same and thus the same goal is reached, as I see it.  It am wearing a tube-shaped dress, it’s just slightly more fitted the way I drafted it.  “I did it my way” (as the famous song says) and have a great pride in this fact even if this does not come off as a very complex design.  Succeeding at building to guts to risk failure is daunting for me.  Also, doing the crazy amount of measurements needed, and then to keep so many numbers straight in my head, is alone worth celebrating.  However, attempting these two ‘skills’ while both my son and my dog were playing in a scary close proximity around me – threatening to ruin my work at any given moment – is the hidden backstory that adds to my extra feelings of triumph.  Simple in appearance or not, this dress was not at all easy to bring to fruition.

     My urgency to get this dress done in one afternoon worked against me, though.  I only used a water-soluble marking pen directly on the fabric with pins to keep the fabric in place.  No paper or mannequin was employed.  As I had abysmal confidence in myself along the way and was doubtful that I would even succeed, I dismissed the passing thought that perhaps it would be a good idea to make a pattern from what I had cut out.  When I saw how perfectly my dress fit, I was equally thrilled at my result but devastated to not have made that pattern.  Sewing is such a bittersweet but thrilling roller-coaster ride of an experience sometimes.

     When it came to adding on the bows, I remembered it is said that an odd number of little things can be more leasing to the eye than an even number.  This often holds true for either buttons or the amount of accessories in a contrasting color that you add to an outfit.  Three is better than four or two, and 13 may seem more natural for a button front shirt dress than precisely twelve.  Thus, I adhered to adding seven bows just as Patrick Kelly had down the backside of his embellished tube dresses.  As I was cutting on double layered fabric, I did actually have squares enough for eight bows, so the extra one was turned into a hair clip!  I even added more bows than I already had and pulled out my old childhood shoe clips from the 1980s decade for an authentic, fun, and memorable outfit. 

     In order to keep my dress’ embellishments low maintenance, I went over and above just tacking the middles down along my back seam.  I also stitched the outer corners of the bows to my dress so my backside is perfectly in place.  It wasn’t a full edge stitch along the bow edges but a delicate tacking down.  I didn’t want the bows to become anymore flat than they may become from sitting on them but still stay somewhat 3-D.  I always find it aggravating to have a glamorous detail to show off from behind (such a pleats, folds, or a peplum) only to have such a feature become messy the moment I take a seat!  I had already noticed droopy, lifeless bows on a Patrick Kelly original tube dress which was flat-laid out for a private exhibit and wanted to avoid what seemed to be a certain fate.  When a pretty bow looks sad instead of perky, it completely deflates the punch that such an embellishment can have!  This dress needed bows that pop for this design, just as much as Patrick Kelly intended, even if I did choose a soft pastel color rather than a bold tone. 

     Patrick Kelly’s bow embellished tank dresses of circa 1985 are a different way to be fun yet feminine, confident yet classy, dressed up while still being comfortable.  Even still, they are not entirely novel in themselves.  Bows were indeed everywhere in the mid-1980s, and especially prevalent on the French couture runways from designers such as Pierre Cardin, Yves Saint Laurent, Valentino, and Schiaparelli.  Patrick Kelly’s bow embellished creations stood out apart from the rest in the way he interpreted them.

Here is a 1985/1986 Patrick Kelly tubular dress design sketch from the Philadelphia Museum of Art “Runway of Love” exhibit book

    Patrick Kelly reached for references and means that hadn’t made it to the headlines before.  He explored the racial undertones and harmful stereotypes behind a certain usage of bows in the American southern states where he grew up.  As a black man born in Mississippi in 1954, Patrick grew up listening to the speeches of Martin Luther King Jr., witnessing race riots, and enduring the evils of segregation, so approaching such a theme was an incredibly personal mission for him.  The intentional manner in which he marketed his brand proudly let the world of couture fashion know who he was, where he came from, and what past influences fueled his creativity.  He was celebrating being a unique member of the “Chambre Syndicale” (a prestigious governing body of the French ready-to-wear industry) in the best way possible, making history as the first black member as well as the première American.  Patrick Kelly mostly used such burdened imagery for press and advertisement photos of himself while the rest of his designs for customers appeared as a tame and normal 80s-style usage of bows.  However, the fact that bows were his top recurring theme combined with the way he interpreted them on himself shows the passionate ideas and loving outlook behind the maker. He was sharing a hint of his inner story in a perceptible yet guarded way with the world. 

     Patrick Kelly’s bow-embellished creations ultimately share a sense of joy and femininity.  They recall a sense of the ‘here-and-now’ wonder of childhood, when bows can be an everyday occurrence on either the playground or a party.  His bows are not just saved for an evening dress design, or a fine satin gown.  Fun bows added on bright-toned tank dresses become simple but appealing and easy to wear for all grown-up girls.  Using a forgiving but clingy rib knit, these dresses were meant to be adjustable in fit, versatile in refinement, and eye catching…all the while being on the unpretentious side of couture.  Such clothing was a niche that couture was generally not offering before Patrick Kelly’s career.   This is exactly what a broader demographic could find charming, wearable, and refreshing enough to purchase.  Bows are always such a high impact embellishment and the irony of adding them wherever and whenever is the ideal lighthearted way to enjoy them! 

     This is the eighth Patrick Kelly specific sewing project that I have shared here on my blog.  In light of this post, I would especially recommend viewing two other bow themed projects I have made –  the “I’m the Present” black velvet dress from 1988 and a 50s decade dress in a cute novelty print.  All these years after his death (in 1990), Patrick Kelly still has such a powerful influence he continues to inspire me and many others.  The styles he created are still so fresh and on-point for today, so it’s no wonder that a renewed interest of his life seems to be emerging today.  Patrick Kelly is an example of timeless creativity, teaching lessons which are always worth learning.  Long live the beautifully basic bow, together with all the amazing ways bows are enjoyed.

Basque-Waist 1940 Dress

     This Easter I broke my tradition and was not able to find time to sew something new for the holiday.  Therefore, let’s throw it back to an old Easter-tide dress which has not yet made an appearance on my blog!  Back in March of 2016 I had a very fun experiment in color blocking with three solid colors, which I made use of to help highlight the unusual lines.  As my title gives away, I made a Basque-waist dress – a charming design that is sadly uncommon in modern garments.  Also called a “corset waist”, this carryover from the Victorian times is a feature that presents a tailored waistline that extends the bodice down to the hips, from which a full skirt hangs.  The way that the year 1940 interpreted the Basque-waist is so pretty and appealing to me! 

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  a rayon and cotton blended gabardine

PATTERN:  Butterick #9316, from July of 1940; supplemented by two waistband pieces from both Simplicity #2180 from 2011 (which I used to sew this animal print sundress posted here) and Simplicity 2655 from 2009

NOTIONS NEEDED:  lots of thread and one zipper

TIME TO COMPLETE:  I made this dress in about 12 hours and finished it at the end of March 2016.

THE INSIDES:  cleanly finished in bias binding

TOTAL COST:  This fabric was bought over 12 years ago and I do not remember the cost.  I do remember that I got really good deals on each individual cut.  The ivory and blue portions were half a yard, the purple was a 2 ½ yard cut.

     This pattern was one of the first handful of vintage patterns I acquired for my own stash so very long ago now.  It was very cheap to acquire due to the fact it was both incomplete and in “junior miss” proportions.  Yes, this is design for teenage girls!  This might explain the sweet and simple styling of the design.  Also, a Basque-waistline is a great way to lengthen and slim the figure in a full skirt – and what teen doesn’t want to look taller than they really are?!  I am about an inch off from being petite, and so I (correctly) figured a design for a teen should be good for my own shorter proportions.  Anyways, when I bought this, I was trying to grow my small pattern collection and figured a few missing pieces wouldn’t be hard to replicate.  As it turned out, I was able to use some modern pattern pieces to mimic the ones I was missing.  This was amongst my first few experiences with an unprinted pattern at that time, and so I was glad to incorporate even a few modern tissue pieces to help me feel at ease.      

     The envelope back suggested this dress be made out of silk satin or rayon jersey knit.  These materials would give the dress a quite different look than mine.  The cotton and rayon blend gabardine I used is still soft, but its thicker weight and twill weave do provide some structure.  I wanted a crisp fabric to give the fitted waist and full skirt support.  After all, the fabric suggestions also list taffeta, a linen, or woolens as possible materials.  Mentally picturing this dress in a silk satin or rayon jersey, I see it as becoming romantic, drapey, and ultra-feminine much like the flowing designs of couturiers Madame Grès or Valentina.  It’s not common to find a pattern that can be made of either a woven or a knit, and interpreted with either a stiff or a soft material.  This pattern is a gem under its plain, unassuming cover.

     What I found most interesting about these fabric suggestions is that the instructions give slightly differing construction techniques if one is using a knit or satin versus the other woven materials.  I have not yet seen such thought-out instructions which change according to fabric choice.  Most vintage patterns seem to assume the user already knows what they are doing and don’t give much in the way of tricks or tips, as this one does.  My particular pattern was still using their “Deltor” branding on the instructions, though.  This was a trademarked system Butterick started offering at the beginning of the 1930s in order to compete with the printed patterns McCall Company came out with in the late 1920s.  The “Deltor” promises accurately marked pattern pieces and an instruction sheet which clearly “shows you in pictures” how to cut, mark, and finish your Butterick pattern.  1940 was the last year I have seen a vintage Butterick pattern using the “Deltor” instructions. 

     I feel as though solid color dresses are usually not my go-to pieces, and therefore deciding on one single tone is always a big commitment for me to make for a project.  This dress was a nice spin on going with a solid color…because here I chose three!  I was going for the idea that the dress’ colors gets darker as the eye goes down.  Also, it was whatever three colors of the same fabric which paired well but were available at my local fabric store at the time.  Both purple and blue (of any shade) are my top favorite colors so I figured I couldn’t go wrong with pairing them with a classy but basic creamy ivory.  I’ve done my fair share of color blocking before, especially for my Agent Carter inspired projects, but then I was almost always working with only two colors.  The closest I have come to color blocking with multiple tones was for both my “Tennis Top” and my 1930s Snow White inspired “rags” dress, the latter of which similarly has hints of bright eggshell blue and ivory! My Pinterest page for a color blocking ideas can be enjoyed here.

     At first try-on, the blue of the Basque-waistline felt a bit overwhelming.  It seemed necessary to break up the blue waist paneling with another color via a belt…and I felt that color needed to pull from the skirt and not be a new tone to introduce.  I was so happy to have had a matching purple belt already on hand, to test out my theory immediately.  My belt is me-made, but not sewn for this project.  I actually used up the entirety of my purple fabric on the skirt of my dress, with no scraps leftover.  My belt is from another purple dress project – this 1947 faux-suspenders piece (posted here).  As the belt’s material is rougher, plainer cotton, the color is slightly darker tone of purple than my finer gabardine, but it still pairs well as a stand in for my lack of a purple belt.  Plus, it makes my outfit 100% self-made!

     The hem length mysteriously turned out much longer on me than the pattern designed.  I however like it that way and so left the length as it was.  I can see this longer skirt turning the dress an excellent prom choice for a teenager of 1940!  The shorter hem would probably have it look more like the stereotypical 1940s length but the longer skirt gives my dress more of a late 1930s air.  

Nevertheless, I am merely exploring the nuances of fashion and find that 20th century Basque-waist dresses are rather timeless.  Their general styling is rather unchanged for all the revivals that can be found between the 1930s and the 1980s.  Each decade within this time frame had their own spin on the Basque-waist dress.  As much as I adore the look of the bright Basque color blocked Oscar de la Renta designs of the 1980s (such as this one or this one), I also enjoy the more remotely Basque inspired dropped but closely-fitted waists popular on 1950s dresses (enough to assemble a Pinterest page for the theme).  I love seeing all the different ways to interpret the same style!   

     There is perhaps no greater moment for the color blocked Basque-waist dress than in the Fall/Winter 1976 “Ballets Russes Opéras” collection that Yves Saint Laurent presented in Paris.  Music was played for the first time in the background of a fashion show and the atmosphere was supposedly one of superior excitement and novelty. 

These fashions were ultimately inspired by the traditional dress of women in the Basque Country, a autonomous region spanning the border between Spain and France.  I have seen some facts imply that Basque dance moves evolved into a classical French ballet dance steps.  This merging may have come from the close relationship the Stewart dynasty had with the French, especially after the restoration of Charles II to the throne of England in 1660.  His was a period which saw a flourishing Court culture, and it is said Basque dancers were kept at court as palace entertainment.  Such full skirts to a Basque-waist dress not only gave freedom of movement but are often seen as reminiscent of a ballet tutu.  The bright colors, excess of material, and flourish of the scarves worn with such an outfit were seen as adding to the flair of dancing in such a ‘costume’.  Saint Laurent loved to imagine the “exotic” in his collections of the 70s and 80s (as FIT in NYC discusses in this post), and this theme was crafted from an assemblage of French literary and artistic allusions.  See my Saint Laurent Pinterest board for more examples of his “exotic” designs.

     On the flip side, such flashy, loosely fitted ethnic clothing has also been stereotyped for centuries to the classical peasant look, often tied most closely to the traveling Romani people of the Eastern Bloc countries, France, Spain, and Portugal.  For too long these peoples had been given the slang name “gypsies” and – whether fully authentic or not – some form of a Basque-waist dress with a loose blouse bodice, corset-like fitted midsection, and a full skirt became the clichéd look of “peasant” people of the above listed ancestries as portrayed in art, literature, and musical interpretations.  

     This idea was only perpetuated for the time of this post’s dress with the popularity of a year 1939 Hollywood interpretation of the Hunchback of Notre Dame.  The French novel was turned into an American romantic drama film starring Charles Laughton and Maureen O’Hara, wherein she (as Esmeralda) was wearing a late 1930s interpretation of the stereotypical Romani Basque-inspired fashions for the film costumes, often brightly color blocked. 

The children’s animated Disney version of the Hunchback of Notre Dame, released in 1996, continued this appearance for Esmeralda, whose look and color paneling is eerily similar to my own dress.  This was probably a very subconscious color choice on my part, but too similar to dismiss as anything short of inspired by the Disney character that I adored as a teenager.  Disney’s Esmeralda was very feisty, compassionate, and self-sufficient which totally impressed me, whether she was true to the original book or not.  Even though my “Pandemic Princess” blog series is officially over, I am counting this post’s dress as an honorary member of the collection.  I’ve always seen Esmeralda as a princess in my eyes, and this dress is hilariously similar to her drawn costume, whether intended or not. 

     With such flashy interpretations to be inspired by, I was tempted to add on trimming or embroidery or oversized accessories to my dress.  Instead, I liked the versatility that keeping my dress simple left for me.  I think the clean and basic colors make my dress classy and free of any cultural connotations.  The funny thing is, even if I did channel such a cultural reference in my dress, I could authentically embrace it as part of my heritage as my maternal great-grandmother was an immigrant from Czechoslovakia.  As I mentioned above when I brought up the designer Valentina of the 30s and 40s, her beautiful simplicity and clean lines is what I wanted to emulate.  In a full circle moment, I’d like to point out that Valentina was Ukrainian, after all, and – going back to the famous “Russian Ballet” collection of 1976 – Saint Laurent originally pinned this Basque-waist look to the endemic cultural dress of old Soviet Union era.

     For all my words over the rich heritage behind such a style of dressing, this ultimately is a really simple design and just as easy to make as it is to wear.  I enjoy the fact that the practice of sewing not only enables me to discover such different styles, but also try them out for myself.  Then, I get to enjoy and interpret in my own fashion.  The entire 1940s has such a variety of styles that speak to all the different political and socioeconomic situations that people who lived through the era experienced.  This dress of 1940 speaks to a wistful, ambitious, blissfully self-centered moment for the USA with its many yards of material and romantic style.  Think of how the movies “The Wizard of Oz” and “Gone with the Wind” had just been released in 1939.  With the major influence that Hollywood had on society at that time, you can translate the excess and flourish of its fashions into Americans reminiscing over their past with rose-colored glasses and dreaming about the future with a hopeful fear. 

     There is no dreamier time to wear such a lovely dress from such an especial turning point from the past than springtime, with the abundance of natural splendor that can be found at every corner tree and backyard garden.  I hope your Easter was every bit as lovely as can be, and you found the beauty and blessings of season in the holiday!

Antique Crochet Yoke Camisole

     It has been awhile since I posted something historical, and I’m remedying that situation right now with a sweet little camisole in the fashion of about 100 years ago.  This actually happens to be my most recently finished sewing project, so you are getting the freshest blog post material possible!   

     With this piece, I’d like so brag that I now have my first completely hand-sewn item.  After all these years sewing, this is so exciting for me!!  You see, last week’s “Spring Break” time off of school for our son meant we took a week long car trip across the country to explore the beautiful, grand state of Colorado.  This entailed many hours in the seat of the car, and I brought this historical project to keep me occupied with something worthwhile during the drive.

I did put down my sewing to soak in all the amazing sights, such as when we were entering the Eisenhower Memorial tunnel. Did you know it is one of the highest vehicular tunnels in the world at 11,158 ft. in elevation – besides being the highest point in the American Interstate Highway System?

  Finishing up this antique camisole has been something which I have wanted to do for the past 5 years, anyway, ever since I had found the original yoke piece at a local antique store.  I always knew it was too delicate of a project to be done on a machine, and therefore the long drive for our vacation – away from my sewing room – gave me the perfect excuse to bring such an ambitious endeavor along.  I couldn’t be more proud over both the care and quality I put into my work here, but also the fact that I have a really cool memento of the spare time from our trip!

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  half of a yard of a matte finish 100% silk chiffon in a “sage green” color

PATTERN:  none needed

NOTIONS:  lots of thread and some antique lace to match

TIME TO COMPLETE:  about 16 hours of hand stitching, maybe up to 18 hours; I just finished this (in March 2023)

THE INSIDES:  So fine!  Not a raw edge to be seen!

TOTAL COST:  The antique crocheted yoke part was bought for only $5 years ago.  The silk chiffon was a half yard cut that I bought several years back; it cost me $12 from “The Tin Thimble” shop on Etsy.  (I will link to the plain white option of this same fabric from their shop here.)  The additional lace was partly from my paternal Grandmother’s stash of notions and also partly a purchase ($8) from an antique mall we stopped at along the way to Colorado…yes, even the lace was yet another souvenir of the trip!  Altogether, this cost me only $25

     My very first step was to give the yoke some good TLC!  Not that it exactly needed some attention.  It’s still wonderfully sturdy and in pristine, undamaged condition but could be whiter and smell less musty.  I soaked the lace for 24 hours in the remarkable Retro Clean whitening solution…and the dingy, grey-ish overtone was gone!  Then I did a hand washing in Woolite detergent for silk and delicate material.  The yoke was so much whiter to the point it was now a faint ivory.  After a steaming from iron to reshape and further freshen the yoke, it was good to go. 

     Pinning this style of crochet yoke down to a general early 20th century time frame is the most approximate dating I feel comfortable being certain upon.  The early 20th century spans the Edwardian era to the end of WWI (circa 1901 to 1918).  Even though I have found my yoke probably dates to the tail end of this time span (as I discuss in depth in the next paragraph), such crocheted lace upper bodice pieces were used in a similar form or fashion by women for the whole early 20th century.  I could endlessly continue to do intermittent research and explore, hoping to uncover even more facts to share about these amazing little handmade pieces of beauty from the past.  However, my finished garment is too cute and much too special to withhold from my blog until all the evidence I pursue comes my way.  It’s fun to have a fresh blog post now and then. 

     From what I found out so far, it seems as if these type of camisoles are tied up with the last era for the wearing of corsets, as these were often worn as a corset cover (which is the way I have it on for this post’s pictures).  Major societal shifts for women and drastic changes in fashion styling spelled the end for such undergarments as this yoke camisole.  Ladies no longer wore full body corsets into the 1920s and yoke pieces began to instead be added to nightgowns, slips, aprons, or garden party dresses as the next decade rolled along. This picture heavy post (here) from the great “Witness2Fashion” blog shows how these pieces were alternatively called “filet lace” yokes and their geometric blocking and ornate designs date them to the First World War era.  

I have noticed that the crochet yokes which are dated to late or post WWI era specifically often have small sleeves that encompass the upper arm, as my piece does.  There is an instructional pattern from 1916 for a crocheted yoke (see it here from “Sew Historically”) as well as several tutorial books circa 1917 sold via Etsy which show similar pieces with full arm sleeves.  Attempting to date the lace alone, apart from the yoke styling, justifies my assumed provenance to the late 1910s.  For one example, a video (posted here on Instagram) of a French crocheted lace sampler book from circa 1920 shows many patterns similar in layout and design to what is on my own yoke.  It’s funny how a lot of fashion research just ends up being a combo of reasonable deduction and serendipitous discoveries!  

     With this much figured out, however, I then was faced with the tough but enjoyable decision of how exactly to bring this antique yoke to its full potential.  I wanted to be authentic yet also have my own ideas, which can be a delicate balance.  I only needed a fabric cut no bigger than a remnant for the body and I picked from my silk stash.  Silk was my ideal for this camisole to be a comfortable base layer.  Most silks also drape well, are a high quality material, and properly historical (as it was a fabric women wore on an everyday basis in the 1910s).  I gravitated towards this earthy sage green sheer chiffon that was beautiful, luxurious, and not currently marked for any other future project.  The green complimented the ivory tone in a way that wasn’t bold yet not plain.  At half a yard by 45” width, it was the perfect dimensions to fit onto the bottom of my crochet yoke and also come down to my hips!  I doubled the fabric up with the fold as the ‘hem’ for a clean finish and to create more opacity.

     I knew ribbons were essential to the neckline and waistline, so – in lieu of fine vintage silk ribbon – I used what was old, but also on hand – my circa 1920s or 1930s “Hug Snug” rayon seam binding tape.  Several years ago, I happened to purchase a box’s worth of many rolls of this stuff for a few dollars, and so I felt comfortable enough to use a few yards of this remarkable ‘no-longer-made’ item from the past.  Spun rayon seam tape is sheer but whisper soft, in lovely satin finish.  It is a high quality notion that used to finish hems or interior straight edges when sewing and can be found on many vintage garments that came ready-to-wear from stores.  Here, rayon tape worked just as well as any ribbon with its saturated color and beautiful rarity to help my work be just as special as the yoke I was using!  I went for a contrast in a burgundy color to bring out the muted green and brighten the ivory. 

     I packed up my sewing kit, my yoke and fabric, matching thread, and the roll of rayon tape in a zip-top bag for the car ride, yet I knew it was not everything.  I did rummage through my Grandmother’s lace box before we left the house and there was only a small cut of thin crocheted lace which was a match.  This lace ended up being added in two vertical rows down the front.  I was very specific about needing a lace that was cotton, crocheted, and a “dirty white”.  I really wanted to only add lace that seemed to be just as old as my yoke.  I was counting on finding the rest of what I needed to in some antique or thrift shops along our way.  This was a decision that made me a little wary as to whether or not this project would happen, yet I love to leave a room for fun surprises and the thrill of the hunt in every vacation.  This need certainly gave us a goal! 

     I will unashamedly brag that my husband has a good eye in antique malls or rummage sales for finding sewing-related things I am on the lookout to acquire.  This time, he outdid himself.  We stopped at an antique mall in a small town off the highway in Kansas and had very little free time to peruse such a large establishment. Somehow he quickly found a bag of 100 year old handmade lace, for only $8, in a basket on a shelf in the back corner of the warehouse.  This lace had been leftover edging from a tablecloth (as the label stated) and was blocked out into a one yard square.  I could tell by the overall geometric designs and fine work that this lace was indeed in the same style, of the same era as my antique yoke!  Hubby is the greatest enabler for my creative projects.  

     On the evening of crossing Kansas towards Colorado, I worked on snipping the larger decorative lace apart (to be used in a future project – don’t worry, I didn’t trash it).  Only the smaller, minimally ornamental portion which had been directly next to the now-gone tablecloth was what I immediately needed.  This portion had channeled openings like the rungs of a ladder which were perfect for passing a ribbon through.  This kind of lace was exactly what I was hoping in my wildest dreams to find for my antique camisole project.  It was the perfect solution to add horizontally along the waistline.  Now I can bring in the waistline as needed but still let it out to get the camisole on or off in way that matches to yoke so precisely.  I am still so thrilled.

     My hand stitching skills really amped up a notch in the car.  Even my husband happened to notice how clean and tiny my threads were from the wrong side!  I really don’t know what got into me.  I think the fact that I had nowhere to go for hours with no distractions or the need to multitask (as is often the case at home) left me to focus on a calm, non-rushed form of precise hand stitching that I found myself really enjoying.  I consider hand stitching slow, exacting work but find it necessary on many of my projects to achieve the proper finish and appearance I feel each item needs.  Yet, here my car-time stitching was more than what it ever was at home – it was intentional, fulfilling, focused, and quality done by choice.  I definitely recommend trying out sewing during travel.  Some people on social media have shown themselves hand sewing on a plane or train, too!  I usually spend my time as a passenger in the car either sleeping, reading or typing on a laptop, but the last two activities made me dizzy and discombobulated this time.  Sewing actually seemed very natural and more than suitable.

     I love how my mix of aesthetic, personal, and historical choices turned out altogether so much better than I had hoped!!  To think I now have the chance to enjoy the yoke, the lace, the fashion that is at least 105 years old – which took hours on end to make by hand in the first place – is both humbling yet thrilling.  Combined with the way this camisole is a souvenir of our trip, I can’t wait to wear this little antiquated underwear item under anything and everything…maybe even as a little summer top by itself with a long, full denim skirt.  Completing this old crocheted yoke was a fun way to try out something new…while I was traveling about making new memories and experiences!

Here’s another of my dashboard passenger pictures – what breathtaking mountain views!

Time for Dinner Dress

     As it is March and St. Patrick ’s Day is coming upon us, my strong Irish heritage compels me to post the habitual green-themed project on my blog, as I do annually.  I have quite the unique piece to share this year – an oddity called the “dinner dress”.  This very sophisticated design with an unusual intent is a great way to further comprehend the amazing variety of options that vintage fashion can provide.  My feminine yet flashy dinner dress has the best of the classic features for 1939 and completely justifies why that year is practically my favorite particular year for elegant, interesting fashion.  Enjoy this dive into the extravagance of the late 1930s with my fabric-hogging, twirl-worthy dinner dress project! 

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  JoAnn Fabrics “Holidaze” line of material – a green striped semi-sheer black organza from the Christmas 2021 collection

PATTERN:  McCall 3169, a year 1939 original from my stash

NOTIONS NEEDED:  lots of thread and one zipper

TIME TO COMPLETE:  This dress took me over 20 hours to make and was finished in March 2022.

THE INSIDES:  I cleaned up and controlled the fraying of the fabric by doing several runs of tight zig-zag stitching along the raw edges to imitate serging (overlocking) with my old machine.

TOTAL COST:  5 yards of this fabric (on discount) cost me about $56

     First off, let’s dive into a little terminology to clear up any confusion.  With a forgotten and outmoded name as “dinner dress” given to this amazing design, finding a description for what makes a dinner dress was important to understanding my sewing project from a historical standpoint.  A basic search led me to Dictionary.com which defines it as “a dress, often long and having sleeves (or a jacket), which is more elaborate than one for daytime wear but less formal than an evening gown.”  This tells me that the fabric and the styling, as well as time period, is all important to making a dinner dress what it is.  Otherwise, there is a very fine line that a dinner dress rides before it becomes an evening gown, which morphing seemed to happen at some point between the 1940s and 50’s.  For social occasions such as dining, I suppose the casual clothes you wore in daytime were probably considered both out-of-place and discourteous to your guests, but a formal gown was over-the-top, as well.  This post’s pre-WWII dinner dress is a vision of the last vestiges of the opulent elegance of the American Depression in which the “modern woman” could display her social aptitude and societal visibility in a variety of public spaces.  A woman’s wardrobe was expected to be up to the task and present a grand visual display of what role she had in society!    

     The same Dictionary.com site mentioned above has a small blurb which notes that the first recorded origin of the dinner dress goes back to circa 1810 (the Regency era).  There is no clear primary source reference I have yet found for this information besides seeing an 1824 “dinner dress” from The MET museum online archives (as seen here).  This timing makes total sense, though, since museum archives as well as original fashion plates show just how popular dinner dresses were by the Victorian times (the time period following the Regency era).  See this National Gallery of Art article on “Dressing for Dinner in the Gilded Age” for more amazing info.  For the Regency era, clothing became more abundant (especially for the wealthy) as well as more functional than ever.  Women were also more independent and active than the previous 1700s.  Many changes of clothing were required for ladies to present themselves as “respectable” for doing anything that the day’s activities or appointments required.  A dinner dress has its origins from a time when women were on display, under the critique of society.  At the same time, a dinner dress presented women with yet another extension of fashion as well as a conventional opportunity to be a greater part of society.  See this post by Liz over at “The Pragmatic Costumer” blog for more dinner dress inspiration.

     For all that explaining, I’m still personally confused because an evening gown is so alike a dinner dress from a modern viewer’s perspective.  Supposedly a dinner dress was for a very specific time frame – after 5 pm, but not past one’s bedtime – so it was definitely not for an evening out.  Yet, I am not bound by these conventions and have worn this as if it is an evening dress for a night of dancing.  Nothing can compare to the swirl of such a full hemline!  

     The fabric of this dinner dress was recommended to be chiffon, organza, taffeta, voile, netting, and ninon fabric.  In other words, a lightweight semi-translucent woven that has a crisp structure to its hang seems to be ideal for this design, probably to keep the full skirt silhouette without needing a petticoat or hem stiffening. I did follow the pattern’s envelope recommendations to the letter because not only did I want to be specific about making a dinner dress but also the perfect novelty organza happened to come my way.  Leftover Christmas material stuck me as very St. Patrick’s Day themed when I found it in the clearance racks in March, and buying it became one of my rare impulse purchases.  Holiday aside, it is a wonderful organza that has bright green satin thread woven through it to imitate the look of attached ribbons.  I have seen vintage material very similar to this fabric on old 1930s dresses and thus I was over the moon to find such a fabric. 

original 1930s sheer satin striped evening gown from “Sweet Disorder Vintage”

     I was stuck in a rut over how to interpret the dinner dress before this ribbon organza came my way. I figured I couldn’t go wrong with my idea if there are a few 1930s originals to back me up on the material being era appropriate.  Yet, the stiffer structure, dressy but not formal status, and semi-sheer opacity of the fabric also helped this dress to check off all the rest of the boxes I had to fill for me to have the “perfect” vintage dinner dress.  With either a bold print or a solid color for this dress, I could see my smaller height might make me look drowned in fabric.  Vertical stripes are slimming and lengthening and were the balance I wanted between plainness and busyness.  So many stripes are a lot to look at, but to me it is a controlled chaos that also provides some direction to the design.  The seam lines and interesting cut of the grain are shown off in a way that may have otherwise been lost in either a print or a solid.  Plus, the hint of see-through between the stripes creates a subtle hint of sexiness as well as the impression that the dress is light and airy…and it is!  I hardly feel it on me.  It was important to keep this dinner dress weightless with as much fabric as was needed.

     The pattern itself was overwhelming to work with…the pieces were so large they barely fit in the envelope!  This of course carries over into the fabric amounts needed.  The view with the short sleeves (view A, the one I was making) calls for 6 ½ yards for a 50” wide material and 8 ½ yards for ones 35” width (such a small selvedge is very common for fine fabrics as well as any dating to the 1930s era).  Just think of how heavy this would have been in a satin or crepe!  However, my fabric was a clearance find and I found myself at the mercy of whatever amount was leftover.  I was only able to buy a three yard cut and then a two yard cut, giving me only 5 (divided) yards to work with.  The cutting counter employee did an inventory search but did not find any other cuts of the ribbon satin in town.  I had to make do with what I could find.  I doubt there are very many sewists of today that have 6 to 8 yards of any fine fabric on hand.  I would’ve been reluctant to buy (and sew with) that much, anyway.  How did a woman of the 1930s have that much material?!?  I guess it goes to show just how much the United States had recovered from the Great Depression…or maybe we were just having fantastically glorious aspirations.  No doubt it was important to have a home sewing pattern of such a garment as this because going the homemade route may have very well been the only way certain women could afford the extravagance of such a garment. 

     My fabric was 55” width and the five yards I had only put me at a 1 ½ yard discrepancy.  It only took a few rather necessary modifications to make things work.  Firstly, I pinched out some of the fullness to the skirt hem from the knees down.  This makes the dress have a graduated fullness, and it is still plenty full for my liking!  Next, I found the overall length of the finished dress to be longer than the average tall woman’s height, so I folded up the pattern in equal gradients to suit my almost petite frame.  Even with doing these adjustments the waist and hips ended up being a few inches too long on me.  Yet, this was nothing that a little letting out of some seam allowance room couldn’t fix.  In all, I generally didn’t have much to adjust for the try-ons which I did in between construction.  My pattern tissue modifications did the trick for fitting both the dress on my body and the pattern on the fabric.  Never take vintage patterns for granted…always measure up to find the finished sizing to whatever old design you find yourself working with before cutting.  You’ll save yourself grief later.  I didn’t have any fabric to fall back on here and everything had to be perfect the first attempt.  I nailed it, happily!

     Just any undergarment was not going to do here when the dress is semi-sheer.  Therefore, I used two (probably 1990s era) black nylon half-slips that my mom no longer wanted to refashion something for myself.  They were in sizes too large for me in lengths that reached down to the floor and never worn (still with tags).  I had a good amount of fabric to work with here, so one slip became my main body, and the other slip was cut into strips for a ruffled bottom hem.  The fabric of these slips is a lightweight tricot nylon mesh, so it is equally as weightless as the dress yet entirely opaque.  I loved using what was on hand to make the slip – a rather unnoticed touch but still something that my dress needed to be fully completed.

     It is wonderful to be able to re-imagine this vestige of fashion history from the past for my enjoyment today!  Such a dress is timeless in the way that – even today – it gives grace of movement, beauty of form, and an air of luxury.  It proves that you don’t have to “bare it all” to be appealing, attractive, and enticing.  There can be a strong power of suggestion behind a finely crafted dress! 

It’s no wonder long length, fancy lounge and evening wear is having a moment of popularity amongst the vintage community and revival in the designer world.  The very year I made my dinner dress (2022) Rodarte came out with a dreamy, very late-1930s inspired collection for Fall-Winter, and two of their dresses (look no.35 and no.44) were quite close in design lines to my own vintage original dinner dress.  I want to point out that the king of irony and shock-value – Italian designer Franco Moschino – resurrected the “dinner dress” idea in the most humorous and lighthearted way possible for 1989.  See it here on the MET Museum’s site for yourself!  A little black cocktail frock with a cravat that looks like a napkin – complete with dinnerware as decoration – is a hilarious but literal interpretation of a dinner dress that everyone can understand with little explanation. 

     I do love the idea of dressing up to enjoy a meal with friends or family.  When the effort can be made, it’s a wonderful way to show love and appreciation for those around you.  Sharing a meal is something special.  Many cultures and traditions see food as a manifestation of love and empathy, and we make sure to carry some of such a beautiful understanding into our family.  Food and clothing are basic human needs but can nourish so much more than carnal concerns…they both can cultivate creativity, charity, character, companionship, and comfort.  When you can combine those needs into one…well that is a kind of magic that heals, builds bridges, and creates memories.  Do we need to bring dinner dresses back, do you think?  I’m ready to try!  Who knew clothes meant for dining in could be so fun and fancy yet still comfortable?