For the last few years on my blog, it seems as if I use the holiday of Valentine’s Day as an excuse to post about ‘underthings’ in February. As much as I like sewing intimates, I really don’t like showing them off in public, even if it’s not myself modeling them! However, they are so pretty, a bit challenging to make, something I am proud of, and very informative to learn from. So, I’ll continue the trend for yet another year by sharing some of the historical and vintage base layer underclothes which have made some of the outfits from the past year before so successful!
So – just to show how far history progressed towards “modern” underthings, and how quickly it happened in a short period of time (30 years), I will share lingerie that I have made of the 19-teens, 1920s, and 1930s into a ‘revealing’, two-part post series. Sometimes you can recognize progress and differences better when we take an overall look behind! This post will be about the finishing piece to my pre-World War I set – a princess seamed slip. This slip is the in-between to the first layer of underclothes (posted about here) which are covered by the corset, and the true fashion garments such as a blouse, skirt, and/or dress (such as this 1914 outfit of mine).
A good outfit starts from the inside out, and this is especially true the further back in historical dressing you get. Fashion affected the style of underclothes, but at the same time the underclothes also influenced the fashion. It was a tug of war, a give and take, with one influencing the other and being influenced in return. The silhouette that we know a year or decade in past fashion to have had that shape because of what came underneath. At the same time, throughout the most recent centuries the shape of women has been controlled and dictated by the underclothes that are made and expected to be worn. Thus, the clothes and what is under them both worked to craft a certain image. When the mode of dressing changed, underclothes necessarily had to go adapt with it. Sometimes, as in the case of closed crouch knickers or panties that appeared in the late teens or 20’s, the underwear – not the outerwear – was the first step towards a desire for change, a new, public demanded, progressive thinking for women. This co-jointed history between the under and outer layers was especially true up until the 1960s primarily.
But even if your reasons are not at all for history’s sake, making vintage undies is awesome! I find that the teens to 30’s variety are so much more comfortable to wear than modern underwear, and much more fun and easy to sew…yes, really! Especially when you use the kinds of materials that they would have had (such as cotton or silk), do you really get the full effect of how luxurious and lovely such items can feel. With all the wires, padding, and image crafting features that add to the difficulty in finding that perfect fit for modern (at least American) lingerie, vintage forms (circa late teens through the 30’s) let your body have its own natural glory, and merely cover in a beautiful fashion and (if anything) only lightly support compared to previous eras. How can that not sound enticing?!
Time is not wasted either on making vintage underwear because generally they can still work for today’s living. My teen’s era underlayers (sans corset) might look interestingly odd by standards of today, but are ridiculously comfy. Granted, they won’t work well under modern clothes, but still would make great night wear. Most historical base layers were meant to be interchangeably left on at the end of the day as night wear anyway! My simple 1920s Kestos style bra is hands down the best ever for comfort and ease in– no wonder it was the one of the first commercially produced bra with separate cups! And 1930’s tap pants and bandeau bras are indulgent little slices of the Hollywood finery which was a part of everyday day life back then – whether seen or unseen! Both the Kestos bra and the 1930’s tap pants will be in the next post, but can definitely work into modern clothes, perhaps not the knit ‘one-size-fits-all’ kind of fashions (with no zipper or tailoring), but definitely a nice, well-fitting skirt and blouse combo or dress.
Every little detail counts in sewing, but particularly so with vintage and historical underclothes. Every ruffle has a reason and something as small as buttons over hook-and-eyes point to the state of events and conditions of living. You can read old clothes, past sewing patterns, and out-of-print fashion images like a small history book if you look at them with the right eyes and inquiring mindset, and that is more than even true of underclothes.
FABRIC: 100% cotton broadcloth – both bleached and unbleached. The beige colored unbleached cotton is left over from my year 1920 blouse, posted here.
NOTIONS: I needed wide eyelet for the hem as a shortcut to making ruffles myself. So, I bought some poly/cotton blend border-stitched eyelet, about 5 or 6 inches wide, at my local Jo Ann’s store. The cotton, two-tone string that was used for the neckline also came from Jo Ann’s store, but had been bought on clearance the year before for another project. All the rest of what I needed came from my Grandmother’s stash of vintage notions.
TIME TO COMPLETE: The slip was finished on March 10, 2017, after about 4 hours.
THE INSIDES: The inner edges are basically overcast, for a simple but relatively clean finish.
TOTAL COST: All cottons were on hand in my stash already, so I’m counting them as free, like the notions from my Grandma, so my only cost was the eyelet, which was rather pricey (so I think), about $15.
This was such an easy, fun, well-fitting, and pretty make, I’m tempted to make another one out of a fashion fabric, something other than basic cotton, so I can wear it as a nightgown! As this is a veritable reprint of true original pattern, the instructions are one paragraph of text, crude and overly brief to the modern eye used to clear, pictorial, and long-winded explanations. If you can be confident in yourself, and see the design lines, you will see that this is really simple requiring nothing really too out-of-the-ordinary or complicated. I think of old sewing patterns’ basic instructions as not being simple so as to leave you hanging…just so you can prove to yourself you really know more than you think and can do well on your own!
When it comes to 1920’s and earlier, pattern sizing can be randomly ill-fitting or unexpected. Not so with this pattern! It says it’s for a bust 34”, which is technically too big of a size wearing the era appropriate corset, close enough to be just my size in modern ‘natural’ sizing. I cut out the pattern “as-is”, with no changes to the sizing or anything whatsoever, and it turned out great! You don’t really want this to be on the smaller fit, you want it to be loose and slightly blousey. But at the same time, the lovely princess seamed shaping darts keep this slip skimming the body, and make it easy to tuck into the skinny, high-waited skirts of the era. I love this pattern.
The neckline is nothing but a simple, skinny casing with a tie to bring it in a fit it around the neck. I considered sewing on a separate bias band to do the job, but instead I turned under the neckline twice and had the string run through the hem that I made. I used the silly, contrast two-tone string not only because it was on hand and it was cotton, but honestly – it’s a fun little touch. You can’t tell me that just because those ladies back then were wearing corsets and looking all decent and lady-like that they didn’t have a little fun with their underlayers. Besides, look at the hem…something this frilly is definitely fun!
I went for the shorter length and it ends on my 5’ 3” figure somewhere between mid-calf and my knee. It only looks a lot longer in our pictures because of the fullness at the hem and also on account of the angle my cameraman (aka, husband) was using to take the pictures. This length and version of the pattern is perfect for those early to mid-teens era fashions, with their long and skinny, tapered hems. Hem ruffles and gathered fabric below the knee create the silhouette of the legs that marked this part of the decade. Skirts and frocks at this time skinny high waists (slightly higher in the back), with long hiplines that flared out into the widest part – just above and/or below the knees – to taper back in at the hemlines. As soon as I made this slip and had it on, it struck me…of course! How else would a skirt or dress get such a pouf out in just the right place with a slip or petticoat with ruffles right there to do the job? Poufy drawers help with that, too. Here again, the underwear makes the styles, and the styles are made possible by the underwear. On a practical basis, I would think that a shorter slip would also be good for being unencumbering to footwear of the times. Women were often wearing high-lacing boots, or at least fancy, fine stockings with the then-new ankle baring heels. Besides the hem of my historical fashions have very wide hems – this is the case of my 1914 hobble skirt that I have worn over my slip so far. A shorter length slip would not be absolutely necessary until the fuller, easier-to-move-in fashions of the WWI era (1914 to 1918) arrived.
This slip does button down the back – a tell-tale sign that women at this time had assistants helping them in and out of their clothes. The time of female independence had definitely not come yet and class gentrification was strong. For my own slip, I made the back placket, and proper button holes with old teens era carved horn buttons to match…only to realize that it was generously sized enough that I didn’t need to unbutton it to get it on. So, I just to stabilize the back, make sure it stays closed, and make things simpler in the long run, I hand tacked each button and button hole closed (for now, at least).
Now, you might be wondering, “What’s up with the weird paneling and funky colors to the back half?” If you didn’t see it before, I guess you see it now. I wanted to “make-do” with what I had so I went all experimental. A few scraps of basic, white, cotton rectangles in weight matching the beige fabric were pieced together to form a solid back piece then hand-dyed the white scraps to match as best I could with what was on hand. As much as I would like a “perfect” looking garment, I am much happier using up and making the most of what’s on hand. Besides, doing something resourceful like this is much more satisfying in the long run, as well as giving me a much more interesting story to share! After all, I feel that if I’m going to experiment on something, might as well do it on underwear.
This was my very first tea dye, and I am very pleased! We happened to have cold brew instant tea bags on hand already, and I own the book “Making Vintage Accessories” by Emma Brennan (great book, btw) to show me how to do it. I was so excited to see how the dye turned out that I now wish I had left it in the tub longer than 2 hours, but the color is closer than I imagined I would get at all, so I’m happy. I did add salt so that the color would “set” so I don’t know if I could do It again for a darker color. The color did not change much at all on the eyelet has it was a cotton and polyester blend. Man-made materials are no fun – they do not have all the possibilities that a basic, traditional woven like cotton has!