Commemorating Eleanor Brenner

     I am sadly overdue in sharing the story of the designer Eleanor Brenner.  She is an American woman who has had an influence on the world of fashion for the last half of a century yet has not been heard about nearly enough.  She passed away a year ago (on April 2, 2023) at the age of 89 without a proper fanfare.  Please read her Legacy obituary here.  Despite being a favorite designer of mine, I have kept my interest in her a quietly personal enjoyment for too long.  I wish I had shared my knowledge earlier so as to help others find an appreciation of her life, talent, and legacy while she was still alive.  However, I will be making up for that delay now!  Even though I am no Vogue magazine or New York Times, I am counting on my humble blog post giving her a tribute that those fancy publications did not. 

     This will be a two part post.  Today I am showing the original Eleanor Brenner garments that I own (such as the blazer shown on the left) as an aid to sharing the story of her life and creative process.  Then, there will be a follow-up post showing what I made for myself using one of her obscure yet official sewing pattern designs.  I enjoy writing and posting designer feature presentations such as this for my blog, and I hope you appreciate them too! 

     Eleanor Brenner, a native New Yorker, first gained national acclaim in the 1950s as an interior decorator.  She was featured in Better Homes & Gardens, Good Housekeeping and many other national magazines.  At this point, her clothing designs were primarily for herself, but friends and acquaintances encouraged her to build upon her sewing and design talents.  After gaining a degree from a Fashion Design school in Manhattan, she unfortunately could not find anyone in the fashion industry willing to accept her work.  Some of her interior design clients appreciated her handmade wardrobe and showed an interest in her clothing creations.  One such frequent client of her interior decorating work was the prestigious coat and suit manufacturer Arthur Jablow, who advised her to continue pursuing a career in garment design.  When she began sewing for friends or private commissions, someone wearing her clothes was noticed by an important industry personage, Geraldine Stutz.  That lucky happenstance led to her job as the in-house designer for her first major client, Henri Bendel. 

     She was “pushing racks of clothes around” at Bloomingdale’s working her entry level job when she met her future husband, Richard Brenner, who was an executive there.  They quickly married.  Soon after, the official “Brenner Couture” line was launched in 1968 with her husband as her business partner.  However, Mr. Brenner realized her potential was bigger than their home’s space would permit…and he was supposedly tired of stepping on pins and fabric scraps!!  She finally opened up a studio of her own and was excited to explore what she could achieve! 

     Eleanor Brenner’s specialty was fun but sensible clothes, tailored and proportioned to complement the petite woman.  With such specialty offerings, “Brenner Couture” was a success.  Eleanor Brenner herself was a small framed woman the same 5’ 3” height as myself.  That means I am precisely her target audience.  She was looking for clothes which complimented shorter statures but was versatile to wear from morning to night out for a busy multi-tasking woman like herself.  That suits my needs as well!  By filling in for what she needed back in 1965, she found herself simply filling in a hole missing in ready-to-wear fashion, too.

Ad from 1987

     However, with two young children to enjoy amidst juggling the changing schematics of the fashion scene, Brenner wrapped up her design career in 1979 (when it was a $10 million company).  With a desire to explore other possibilities, she wrote a cookbook on gourmet salt-free cooking which catered to her sudden dietary needs as well as practice on her painting skills.  She did reopen her fashion house in 1983 under the label ‘Eleanor P. Brenner’, only to exit the industry again in 1993.  She and her husband then moved from New York to dedicate time running a program they founded for serving underprivileged youth on their Santa Fe, New Mexico ranch.  Her strength of character and unselfish confidence shines in how she was not afraid to move on from her successful career to focus on doing good works for others.  She excelled in more than just fashion, giving back time and talent to her family and her community as well.  With her designs, she wanted to help give women the clothes they needed to be a strong woman who can do it all, and in that process she herself became a role model for exactly that.  The way she and her husband maintained a loving, co-operative marriage for 56 years through working the couture business together is a great relationship example to learn from.  I look up to Eleanor Brenner in so many ways! 

     If only for being the designer that clothed Mrs. Mondale, wife of the vice-president, for the 1977 Inauguration, I am amazed she is not better respected and known.  Brenner was the official designer for “Washington Whirl Around”, a group staffed by American senator’s and congressmen’s wives.  She designed the uniforms for the women who are the tour guides who escort VIPs visiting the Washington Capitol building.  Brenner’s creations were featured as part of the first official salute to American fashion — the “Suiting Everyone” Bicentennial exhibition at the Smithsonian in 1974.  Yet, there are still so many more reasons than all of what I’ve already mentioned to give her accolades.  Not too many native New Yorkers actually make a name for themselves at home, anyways, and she did it her own way, too!  In 1966, under Henri Bendel, she was the first to offer designer ready-to-wear petite sizes in high-end department stores.  She introduced the perfect clothes for women who were driven to succeed in the corporate world, who had dreams to stand out, and a drive to thrive in clothes that are as clever as they are. 

     “I want my clothes to give each woman positive feelings about herself,” Eleanor Brenner has said.  ”I want my clothes to help a woman say, ‘I like who I am.’”  What a wonderful approach to fashion!  So far every piece of her designs that I have worn have given me such a feeling. Goodness knows, we need more of such kinds of clothes which give an instant confidence boost in stores of today.  She balanced great fabrics, bold prints, creative details, and quality fit at a lower price (for designer clothes at that time) so that her offerings were a given sell-out for those who sought her designs  Yet, for being such a clever creator who found something novel to offer, she said that “We only redefine what’s been done before. Nothing is revolutionary in clothing…unless we start wearing spacesuits” she mused in 1990 to The Morning Call.  

Here I am wearing my 1992 Eleanor Brenner blazer with a me-made satin skirt (posted here).

    In a quest to figure out the feel, fit, and fun of Eleanor Brenner’s clothes, I bought two vintage extant garments from her line before sewing up the Brenner dress in my next post.  My first acquisition was a boldly luxurious silk suit blazer from 1992, as dated by a descriptive newspaper ad.  Suiting coats like this one were her “bread and butter” when she re-opened her business in 1983.  This piece definitely played into Eleanor Brenner’s history of a novelty play on color in her fashions.  ”My clothes are for women who know they are a little more adventurous than the beginner (the very young woman on her first job),” Mrs. Brenner explained in her new showroom just off Seventh Avenue in 1983.  

The trimming on this coat is utterly fantastic and my favorite part. Oversized, standout lapel trim like this is actually back in style this year looking at the Spring 2024 designer suits, such as Alice & Olivia’s “Denny” blazer.  The heavy, golden oversized buttons are the perfect added splash of both class and exuberance.  The rich toned emerald silk is utterly deluxe, too, with a beautiful shine.  Sadly the inner neck of the collar had shattering of the silk, so I have since repaired that with an applied panel of some matching fabric from on hand.  I hope this blazer will be good to go for my wardrobe for many years to come.   

     Next, I acquired a short wool cropped bomber jacket by her, as well.  It dates to the 1980s as the label gives away the decade!  I love that this piece is faithfully after the style of the 1940s.  It mimics the Eisenhower jackets worn by the men in the Pacific Theater late in WWII.  When it is said the 1980s did the 1940s, it is not just a thrown around phrase!  All the pocket room is appreciated, as is the sturdy zipper and full body lining.  This jacket is lightweight but the lofty wool makes it remarkably warm for its lack of bulk.  This piece further proved to me that her garments are high quality, with a dash of the unexpected.  They also run large with their generously fitted shoulders, so I wear a size or two smaller than normal (for 1980s sizing) in her vintage clothes.

     Upon acquiring a pattern from this designer, I was ecstatic to have something from her 1970s repertoire when she was at the height of her first fashion stint.  After finding myself a big fan of hers from both wearing her garments and reading her life’s story, the chance to interpret one of Brenner’s designs for myself through a sewing pattern was *everything* for me.  I found an old advertisement for Brenner’s sewing pattern (which will be in my follow-up post) that listed the original dress as running for $150 in fine stores in 1974.  An inflation calculator says that the dress my pattern is based on would be about $800 today! 

I have also found an “Eleanor P. Brenner” silk shantung pencil skirt from the 1980s with its original Neiman Marcus tag still attached.  The price tag says $130, and the inflation calculator says that would equate to about $500 in 2024 pricing.  Her clothes were high fashion designs indeed. ”They are for the woman who has a fairly frantic life style, wants them to wear a long time and doesn’t want to think about them once she has them,” Mrs. Brenner said in a 1989 New York Times interview. 

     Stay tuned for my next post to see an Eleanor Brenner designed in my own way.  My unique interpretation makes this project unlike anything else I have made and therefore a favorite piece in my wardrobe…in case you needed a major teaser!   Until then, visit my Pinterest board (here) for Eleanor Brenner to browse many examples of her offerings.

“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 20^th 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 20^th century time frame is the most approximate dating I feel comfortable being certain upon.  The early 20^th 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 20^th 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!