August 2025 Recap

     I do not often share updates about my real life behind the blog, but last month was extraordinary enough to post about it.  I went on two trips to see some very special fashion-related exhibitions and thought you might enjoy some glimpses into both presentations.  They were certainly something worth gushing about.  It has been quite a while since I have seen a fashion exhibit, and these might be the best yet.  Two in one month has given me much inspiration and direction, and will certainly be relevant in future posts.   

     Firstly, to start off the month, we went to the Nerman Museum of Contemporary Art in Overland Park, Kansas for “A Match Made in Heaven: Katherine Bernhardt x Jeremy Scott.”   This was a highly anticipated exhibit on my end, as I am already a fan of Jeremy Scott’s work, especially through Moschino.  I literally screamed at home (to myself) when I first saw the announcement of its opening months back.  Early August had been the original closing date and so we planned for a last minute visit, but happily the deadline has since been extended through the end of October.  This is an immense collection of Jeremy Scott’s absolutely stunning body of work, perfectly complimented by the larger-than-life works of the artist Katherine Bernhardt, who happens to be from my city! 

Jeremy Scott is the master of unique shapes and unusual compositions.

Oh, the close-up details are glorious!!!

Four examples of Jeremy Scott’s amazing use of leather and vinyl materials

Scott’s skill and ingenuity has me both proud to have already been a fan of his work, yet also appropriately humbled by the breadth of his handiwork.  There are hundreds of items to be seen up close (no glass partitions), put together into perfectly coordinated, fully accessorized outfits.  This exhibit is Scott’s beautiful tribute to his hometown of Overland Park, and will not be travelling anywhere else.  I plan on going back and recommend anyone who can make it there by October 26 to go visit the exhibition for themselves.    

     Beforehand, a dress was made for my Nerman Museum visit using an official Jeremy Scott era Moschino silk.  However, I reverted to wearing my 1990s “Sewing Woes” cartoon print suit set (posted here) that day.  This time, an official Moschino brand red leather belt was added over the suit coat, I changed to my red heart purse, and wore red patent flats for comfort.  Many visitors remarked that my suit set fit in perfectly with the exhibition, and thought my clothing could be part of the collection!  This project was directly inspired by Moschino, after all, and is meant to be my own personal spin on the quirky, fun fashions of the original founder Franco.  However, Jeremy Scott followed suit in the heels of the line’s founder, and can be seen in a cartoon print set of his own for the official photo for the Nerman Museum’s exhibition.  How ironic is that coincidence?!?  

     Secondly, for the last weekend in August, we went to Atlanta, Georgia to visit the “Jeanne Lanvin: Haute Couture Heritage” exhibition at the Museum of Fashion + Film in SCAD (Savannah College of Art and Design).  I have wanted to visit SCAD for far too long to see their past presentations, especially the one on Madame Grès back in 2023.  It was well worth the wait to visit this finely curated, visually impressive display of Lanvin’s exquisite garments.  SCAD’s setting for Lanvin’s work was appropriately austere yet profound enough to let the delicate beauty of her clothes shine of their own accord. 

Here are some of Lanvin’s garments from the early 1920s to the early 1930s

Such stunning fine-tuned details!! Our pictures don’t capture it properly…

The exhibit covered five decades of Jeanne Lanvin’s work by displaying almost 80 garments.  The quality of her materials were top-tier and the details to all of her pieces were so cleanly, thoughtfully, and ingeniously executed.  I was in awe.  This exhibition had me utterly mesmerized.  We came back two days in a row so as to better absorb and appreciate everything.  The campus of SCAD had free parking and was near the fun “Politan Row” food hall in Midtown Atlanta’s Colony Square, so it was great to spend extra time in area.

      The Lanvin exhibition has made me re-thinking my own sewing.  I actually made a simple silk shantung version of a mid-1920s robes de style, her signature silhouette (at left), but didn’t wear it.  After my first visit, I realized that my own work is so very sub-par to her own, and the SCAD setting so professional, that it did not feel appropriate to me to wear my interpretation of her designs.  This was the first time ever, after visiting too many exhibitions to count, that I have not shown up in something made specifically for the theme!  This was a great, if unusual, realization for me to face.  The best lessons in life are often the ones that challenge us to approach things differently.  My visit to SCAD was very worthwhile. 

     Of course, I was still wearing something me-made for the occasion, as that is my primary wardrobe.  I had brought a favorite Art Deco era dress, this 1929 rayon crepe dress (posted here).  It was comfortable, cute, and of an era to somewhat suit the exhibit without overdressing.  Nevertheless, I hope to now spend some quality time to elevate my 1920 era robes de style dress after mulling over the lessons learned from Jeanne Lanvin.  I will not give up on nailing such a unique shape!  We went on the last day the exhibition was open, so unfortunately you cannot attend it yourself, at this point.  Nevertheless, more about the exhibit’s items will be shared on my blog when my robes de style is finished.   

     The next time you see a picture of a Lanvin garment, take it from me and know that any photograph does not remotely give her clothes the justice they deserve.  You need to see them in person to understand the level of her talent.  It is just the same, but yet different, for Jeremy Scott’s work.  His clothes are immediately in your face, they’re so vibrant, but the way their details are inventive and unexpected shows up close.  They are stand-alone styles, the work of a limitless imagination.  Lanvin’s clothes have an extreme balance of fine delicacy and beauty that elevate her artistic versions of the prevailing fashion of her times.  They are truly the epitome of haute couture.  Both exhibitions presented two varying ends of the high fashion spectrum, and both had clothes I would love to wear…or at least know their construction secrets.  Nevertheless, I am still thrilled to have experienced a peek into the life of both Lanvin and Scott.  It was an unmatched experience to see their clothes, and hope this little recap has you wanting to study up on both designers for yourself.  

Not Your Average Mid-Century Set

     This post’s outfit is a blend of two eras, working together to create a late 1950s outfit with a French flair.  My 1957 top is self-made and therefore will occupy the limelight in this post.  However, the bottom half is a special pre-Y2K decorative circle skirt which helps the top half suit the era.  Together, the two pieces create an interesting yet sophisticated look that has me feeling like a modern fairytale princess.  With sequins galore, complex design lines, and a rich palette of colors, this may have the basic silhouette of the 50s but it is not your average Mid-Century set. 

      Before the most recent turn of the century, fashion styles seemed to ‘look backwards’ and refresh many clothing choices of the hundred years before.  My skirt is a late 1990s item that has been in my wardrobe since I found it second-hand in the early 2000s.  The decorative sequins confirm the fact it may be only 30 years old but it is a great modern reproduction of a true vintage skirt style, nevertheless.  The customized border design cleverly wraps around the full circle hem in a manner strongly reminiscent of hand-painted “tourist skirts” of the 1950s.  

Many tourist skirts reflected stereotypical imagery of South American culture, and that may be the case here (the sketchy design makes it hard to verify), but the gradient colors and folkloric setting have me thinking otherwise.  The 1990s and 2000 decade was blindly obsessed with incorporating a Westernized understanding of South Asian fashions.  In turn, Southeast Asia was a predominant interest prevalent in fashion beginning in the 1940s and continuing into the 1950s, due in large part to the recent decolonization of those regions.  My skirt is from India so I would like to think this is a brilliant contemporary interpretation of the old tourist skirt trend.     

     Every decade of fashion from the past has more than one look to offer for every taste or personality.  Y2K fashions can often be quite versatile and great for achieving various vintage styles.  Once you look beyond the redundantly type casted trends of those times, finding elegant pieces is possible.  Look for quality fabrics, good details, and silhouettes that you would like.  1950s fashion has a very classic appeal and what makes is attractive is not relegated to that decade but can be found in the 1990s, too!  On the flip side a well-designed 1950s item can be timeless.  With the right pairing, this Mid-Century blouse could look quite modern!  The pattern offers unique features that don’t scream that it is nearly 70 years old, and it should be just as appealing to today’s seamstress as one from 1957.  This set shows how my manner of approaching vintage dressing has evolved…I am more willing to mix things up than ever before.  Keep following my blog for more like this because these crazy ideas are not stopping!

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  a dense polyester interlock

PATTERN:  Mrs.Depew pattern #3007, a year 1957 reprint from 2015

NOTIONS NEEDED:  nothing but thread

THE INSIDES:  As the interlock does not fray, the raw edges are left unfinished.

TIME TO COMPLETE:  This blouse was made in 7 hours and finished in July 2017.

TOTAL COST:   The interlock was something on hand in my stash for too long to remember, and since it was just a one yard remnant, I am counting it as free.

     My top is described as “a kimono-sleeve pull–on blouse. Features a draped bodice, shoulder curving panels and darts at front & back waist.”  It originally comes from a December 1957 “Woman of Today”, a French fashion magazine with patterns included, very much like the Burda Style magazines still around today.  The top was featured on the cover, for good reason.  This is a standout design!  The shoulder draping and neckline gathers strongly remind me of a 1933 evening gown by the great French designer Charles James.  (See it here on the MET Museum website.)  That couture gown definitely is hiding very complicated, creative secrets but has the same basic principles which were used to create this top.  It is exciting to discover the mysteries behind such complex designs.

The lower front bodice section runs into being a sort-of underarm gusset! This is why odd shaped scraps work for this pattern. Also note the cut sleeve hem.

     About 1 5/8 yards of material are called for in this pattern.  However, true to my penchant for scrimping on pattern layout, I was able to sew successfully on much less.  I eked out the blouse on a small, unevenly cut remnant.  Yes, this is a scrap busting design!  Don’t ever discount the things your remnant pile can do!  You do need to choose a fabric that is not too thick, can gather well, and hold some shape while being supple, so there is a need to be particular here.  By using a poly interlock, I actually saved on space when laying out my design because the edges were to be left raw and hems were not added.

     The pattern was sectioned out into four parts, and only one was recognizable as a conventional looking bodice piece.  The other three were very odd shaped.  All balance marks, or notches, were assigned a letter of the alphabet in order to understand both the steps in construction as well as which ones to pair together.  As long as I blindly trusted the instructions to tell me precisely which letters to match up in what places and in what order…everything did miraculously come together as shown.   Chalk or thread mark everything shown on both the pattern’s pieces and the given diagram!  There is no way around it.  I am glad to have been working with a solid tone since it made my chalking marks so much easier to see and follow.  Note also that this pattern is much like a Burda Style pattern where both seam and hem allowances not given.  These need to be added at the maker’s discretion.  I chose the conventional 5/8 seam allowances since I wasn’t sure if the top would need to be let out or taken in to fit.  The size chart was exact however, and the top was sewn up unchanged.  For what seems to be a complex pattern, this one is a relatively painless and easy way to end up with a remarkable garment.

    The pattern’s final instructions call for some odd sort of “flap” to be sewn inside the top to “keep the front neckline in place.”  This was to one part of the instructions which I did not blindly follow.  Yet, after wearing the top only once, I understood the original intent of the last paragraph.  The top’s decorative bust gathers do have a terrible habit of creeping up to my neckline, looking sloppy and completely losing its amazing design.  Even tucking my top down in my skirt as tightly as possible doesn’t cure the problem.  I suspect that this is not an issue specific to my version, and that the intended flap was somehow supposed to keep the bodice gathers down in place where they should sit. 

     My temporary solution is to safety pin the inner seam allowance of the underbust seam to my brassiere band.  I have thought of adding boned channels to the bodice front, but that would require a crafting a complex lining and would probably show some bumpiness through the soft interlock.  Another solution may be as simple as adding an inner skinny strap that connects at the front bodice so it can be tied back from underneath.  My temporary solution does just as well as a complex one with minimum effort involved. Whatever the fix, something needs to anchor the bodice down in place over the bust or else this top is unwearable.  It is a weird issue to deal with but one worth solving for such a fancy design.  

     The pattern calls for stretch only fabrics, and because I wanted this to be a nicely wearable test I went with a modern polyester.  However, now that I know how the pattern is constructed, fits, and can be perfected, I am keeping it on the backburner of my mind to try out the pattern’s original fabric recommendations of fine charmeuse, silk knit, or a fine jersey blend.  The back bodice is cut entirely on the straight grain, but all the other pieces employ the bias cross grain to bring so much softness, stretch, and figure-hugging properties to the draped gathers.  This pattern can bring out the shine of a silk to perfectly highlight the beauty of the material, but can equally transform a basic knit like my interlock into something dramatic, as you can see.  These photos did not capture how my interlock does have a nice finish to it in real life that helps me envision my next silk iteration of this pattern.  Eventually, I would like to find a way to extend the sleeve gathers into being a longer sleeve and even attach the top to a skirt so it could become a dress.  Perhaps I could even re-create the Charles James’ 1933 dress mentioned earlier above.  If I caused you want to try any such ideas out, you’re welcome…but please also let me know how it turns out.  There are so many ideas to sew and too little time!

     My first time working with a Mrs. Depew pattern was a rousing success and I appreciate so much about what the company has to offer.  I like that this particular pattern was a ready-to-use print to PDF and not one that I had to grade up to my size, as so many are on the Depew site.  I appreciated that it had the instruction sheet and other necessary pages translated into English, saving me so much time and preventing confusion.  A complicated design such as this one would have been a nightmare for me, otherwise.  Translation services that I have previously use to decipher the German, French, and even Spanish patterns in my collection have mucked up any sewing related terms and turned my time for sewing into a frustrating guessing game.  Sewing is best when it is fun!  I may merely seem “late to the party” since Depew has been around for many years, but keep in mind this blouse was sewn by me back in 2017 (see “The Facts”).  At last, I am thrilled to write up about the making of this top and share my recommendation for a vintage reproduction company with unique offerings and genuine facsimiles.    

A full circle skirt demands a good twirl!

     It is very satisfying to be able to say “I made this” to someone for each of my projects, but especially for stunning designs such as this post’s top, which probably would seem very complicated to create for people who do not sew.  It satiated my curious brain to solve the puzzle of the pattern pieces and was a great way to see my skills be pushed to a new level.  I have been posting a lot lately about branching out to experiment with different pattern companies, unfamiliar techniques, and novel outfit pairings.  I realize that I have so many other projects which date to 1957, but felt that this is a different way to approach the fashion of that year, and a great way to highlight my 1980s circle skirt. Being able to create my own unique style and feed my creative side is an opportunity I am very grateful to have.  I wish everyone could have a taste of how exhilarating it is to sew something that is out-of-the-ordinary.  Each blog post I share with you helps me remember and celebrate my sewing exploits and this one particularly so.   

Pilialoha Polynesian Wrap Dress

     I live in an urban city environment and need my summer wardrobe to occasionally transport me to a tropical getaway, even if only in spirit.  A fabric direct from Hawaii, bought at the island by a friend, is just the thing to help trick my mind into bearing the humid city heat as if merely an urban variant of the island’s rainforest.  The resulting dress is not only an authentic taste of Hawaii’s beautiful textile heritage but also the largest scale print I have ever worked with for the ultimate “go big or go home” moment!  I am ready for my mid-western version of some tiki time.

     To honor the Polynesian origin of my fabric, I utilized a vintage pattern from a brand that had specialized in offering fashions influenced by the culture of the island.  This is my first dive into the popular “Polynesian Pattern” brand and am thrilled with the experience.  I do have a soft spot for wrapped garment designs, and this one is not only Hawaiian but also unique, comfortable, and appealing.  It has the loose fit proper of a Hawaiian design with a streamlined silhouette and the perfect design lines for an oversized floral.  This is easy summer dressing at its finest!

THE FACTS:

FABRIC: cotton broadcloth

PATTERN: the “Pilialoha” wrap dress from “Polynesian Patterns” number 204, dated to year 1971

NOTIONS NEEDED: thread and two buttons

TIME TO COMPLETE: This dress was sewn in August 2022 and made in about 8 hours.

THE INSIDES:  cleanly finished in double rows of tight zig-zag stitching to imitate serging (overlocking)

TOTAL COST: I don’t remember exactly how much I spent, but three yards of fabric were about the same price as decent quality cotton at my local fabric store.  I felt that the cost was reasonable since this came from a small ethnic fabric shop in Honolulu.   

     “Polynesian patterns” was one of four major brands which offered Hawaiian inspired fashions during the 1960s and 70s.  These several sewing pattern brands were based in Hawaii and brought the island’s culture into worldwide awareness and appreciation. “Polynesian Patterns” specifically is unique for the way each of their design offerings were given a name derived from the ethnic language.  This brand also offered more than the stereotypical Hawaiian mu’umu’u (a long, brightly colored, loosely fitted garment) found through the other Polynesian pattern companies.  “Polynesian patterns” offered a variety of women’s styles, as well as offerings for men and children…something for everyone!  These patterns are a niche, short-lived trend in the home sewing market of the past, but a great way to try a Hawaiian style for yourself.  They helped expand and continue the fascination for tropical influenced fashions that grew out of the WWII era so that a new generation could enjoy a taste of Hawaii wherever they may be.  Now, these Polynesian Patterns are prized among collectors and sewists, especially the sacque back gowns or sarong dresses, as they are timelessly appealing examples of modern Hawaiian fashion.

    It is always so fun to try (and find out about) new lines of vintage patterns, and this one matched my high expectations.  I was lucky to acquire the design I wanted – the “Pilialoha” dress – in what seemed to be my size according to the envelope chart.  The size chart was accurate to the finished dress, as were the shoulder-to-waist proportions.  While the dress fit me perfectly, I did find the armhole clearance to end up being small.  I do not attribute this to the pattern but the era from which it came.  Most sewing patterns of the 1960s into 1970s, no matter what the brand, seem snug around my larger upper arms, no matter whether they are sleeveless or not.  The pattern paper seemed nice, and the notches, seams, and sewing directions were printed directly on the pattern, much like other patterns of the era.  It was easy to use, easy to sew, and came together beautifully with no hiccups.  I do hope to pick up yet another “Polynesian Pattern” in the future.  Before then, I may just have a go at trying out a short-sleeved, blouse-length version of this dress design instead.  It is good enough to repeat sew, for sure.

     The most challenging part of making this Hawaiian dress was not the pattern or the fit but planning out a pleasing placement for the ridiculously oversized fabric print.  The leaves are almost as big as the dress itself, and it is the most outrageous border print ever!  As amazing as the print is, it was a new kind of challenge to tackle.  When it comes to large scale prints, the motif layout seems to dictate where the pattern pieces will go.  The pieces had to be laid out opposite of the suggested selvedge to accommodate the border design.  The fabric was woven so tightly that countering the selvedge luckily didn’t matter too much anyways this time.  Yay for a good fabric which helps my crazy ideas work out. 

     However, cutting on a single layer is also just as important to perfecting the layout.  Every piece was laid out on one layer of fabric and traced out with chalk before cutting.  This way, I could have a clear idea of where each pattern would fit on the entire yardage of the oversized print.  The main leaf cluster in the middle of my three-yard cut was spotted to be the primary point of interest for the dress, and the front panel was laid out for asymmetric positioning.  Luckily, the A-line, straight cut to the front dress piece was wide enough for almost all the front leaf cluster to fit. 

The dress’s back panels were laid out on either side of the front to continue the print’s progression as best I could.  I changed the separate gathered panel for the back of the dress into being cut as one with the dress back to minimize extra seam lines and avoid breaking up the print.  The dramatically gathered back fullness is achieved in the same way as the pattern designed but through a different, more continuous means by my adaptation.  The way I was able to match up the print across the back wrap overlap leaves me so very happy. 

     While the front is simple in shape but ornamented by the oversized border print, the back has the most detailing.  This is a wrap dress that closes from behind, after all.  I like the way the back is an overlapped, double-breasted closure for security from both a button malfunction and a cheeky flash of the wind.  To keep with Hawaiian theme but adhere to the fact this is from 1971, the duo of buttons are merely imitation wood.  This makes my dress easier to wash in the machine. 

I did raise up the back dip of the dress’s neckline by 2 ½ inches.  By doing this, the back neckline is still low enough to be sexy but high enough to cover up most my lingerie.  I can’t imagine how low the back neckline would have been otherwise!  The view from behind is still impressive enough and makes my dress feel quite different when compared to the view from the front.  I do like a dress that gives off a bit of something unexpected when turned around!  The gathered back gives me the sense of having a train without the fussiness of one, adding to the fun of my Polynesian wrap dress.  The wrap design keeps it effortless and swishy for summer.

         Every piece so closely fit altogether on three total yards, even though the envelope says the short dress needs 2 5/8 yards.  I am so grateful my friend picked up a generous amount of this fabric.  I cut my dress as a slightly longer version of the short dress and understand the yardage amounts given are for a fabric with no set direction.  The long dress calls for over four yards, though.  Since I was cutting this dress out on a different layout, my luck held out to have this work after all.  Three yards continues to be a safe bet to create a dress from most decades of the last hundred years, even on a 45” width fabric such as this one.   

      My necklace is an important part to completing my ensemble.  Not only is it from my dear departed maternal grandmother, but it is a culturally significant “haole koa” seed lei necklace.  These seeds are endemic to Hawaii, Maui, and Oahu.  They are one of twenty-seven plants thought to have been brought to the islands by the first Polynesian explorers.  Koa plants are revered by the culture for symbolizing their brave and fearless warriors as well as being tied to their native royalty.  The wood of the Koa plant is strong enough to have been used for the early canoes, weapons, and utensils, but the seeds tend to go towards bodily adornment, such as tattoos (from the dye) or lei necklaces.  Koa seeds are supposedly easy to string because they are boiled down until soft so as to be easily pierced with a needle, then strung using a method close to crochet.  Here’s an old 1950s instructional sheet on the different seeds used as beads in Hawaii and they are turned into jewelry.

     These necklaces are supposed to embody the virtues of their ancestors and transmute those qualities to the wearer.  They stand for the Polynesian islands’ heritage of resilience, strength, and vitality, lasting from generation to generation.  Seed lei necklaces are a great way to respect the culture of Hawaii.  Here, it more deeply honors the origins of both my fabric and the pattern which was used for my dress.  If only grandma could see how I am wearing her necklace today, and hear how I styled it considering the culture, she would no doubt be quite pleased. 

    Even though I am not Hawaiian by ethnicity, any of my Polynesian themed sewing projects are approached as a great opportunity to appreciate another culture’s tradition, as is the case for any ethnic influenced fashion.  The last time I sewed with some of the fabric which my friend brought back from Hawaii, I sewed it in a way to learn about America’s 50^th state to join the union (see that post here).  This time, my outfit is more based on the heritage and traditions of Hawaii, even though it ultimately only began because I wanted an awesome summer tropical dress out of the best border print ever seen.  My sewing pattern and dress material is sourced from the islands.  The friend through which I acquired my fabric has family ties to Hawaii herself.  My grandmother’s koa seed necklace is something she brought back from one of her several travels to the island.  I do feel that I am carrying on the Polynesian tradition of honoring one’s ancestors by my thoughtful approach to making a modern Hawaiian dress.  

     Never forget that every admirable quality of your predecessors exists in the good you are doing today!  This is not exclusive to one culture but applies to all.  Hopefully this post will help you see that the tropical prints, which are so popular for summer, have a bigger meaning and message behind them.  They are part of a culture that used its fierce resilience and unique identity to survive in the middle of the ocean for centuries.  Polynesian prints are a great way to experience the beauty of the islands wherever you live!

Summer Silk Designer Pants

     What could be a more inescapable part of summer clothing than the color white?  I have skirts, dresses, tops, and jackets aplenty in all white.  However, there is one garment that I have not yet been able to love in that snowy tone – pants.  Ones in white that I have had before are generally dreadful on my short frame and body type.  Yet, sewing consistently helps me find a way to transform something I hated into an item to appreciate.  Therefore, I found myself embracing yet another crazy experiment for the good of my wardrobe.  A trifecta of never-fail favorites are all present: Emanuel Ungaro (one of my favorite designers), good quality silk, and fine tailored details.  My plan couldn’t go wrong!  In combination with a bold mid-1990s style, the perfect balance has been found to help me redeem white pants in a fantastic way, better than I had ever imagined.

     These were worn as part two of my birthday present to myself last year (as seen above).  For 2024’s birthday, I finally splurged on a “bucket list” acquisition of an Emanuel Ungaro “Parallele” label (aka, late 1980s) suit set. (See more about the full vintage outfit here.)  I soon found out my white trousers paired perfectly with the suit’s jacket.  This new pairing gives me an extended option that, while still being Ungaro, is of my own making but also easier to move in than the original wiggle skirt.  Filling in my wardrobe with pieces which tie in with my best designer items is one of the highlights to my recent sewing exploits! 

However, not content with keeping these white pants dressy, this post will also show a secondary manner of wearing them as trendy 90s street wear.  Their wide legs and baggy fit reminded me of the clothing seen in my favorite 1990s era pop music videos.  I threw on old items from my teen years – a magenta cropped tank, platform sneakers, and charm necklace – and feel like I need my own music band just to grace a disc’s cover sheet!  I hope you enjoy both ‘looks’ just as much I do when wearing them.

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  the exterior is a silk “crinkle” shantung, while the inside lining is a sheer all-cotton broadcloth

PATTERN:  Vogue #1543, year 1995, designed by Emanuel Ungaro

NOTIONS NEEDED:  I used lots of thread, vintage findings for the front waist closure (zipper, button, hook-n-eye), and interfacing for both the waistband and welt pocket binding.

TIME TO COMPLETE:  These pants were sewn in about 40 hours, and was finished in June of 2023.

THE INSIDES:  These pants are fully lined, and any raw edges exposed are tightly zig-zag stitched over to imitate serging (overlocking).

TOTAL COST:  These pants were a good deal, bought through “Fashion Fabrics Club”.  I originally ordered two yards for a total of $15, but ended up receiving just over 4 yards for that price (I’ll explain this fiasco momentarily).  The thin cotton batiste lining was about $5.  All my vintage notions were inherited and so free.  My total is only $20!

     A white material needs to be of high enough quality, appealing drape, and interesting texture for me to even consider a solid white garment, whether ready-to-wear or me-made.  Considering all the white projects which I have sewn already helped me gain a feeling for a material for my pants.  A novelty rib-knit was chosen for this 70s top, a thick Kona cotton for a 40s shirt, an embroidered broadcloth for a summer 30s blouse, and a nubby linen-look for another 40s blouse.  None of these white materials from my sewn wardrobe seemed soft or opaque enough for pants.  A rayon challis (albeit with a subtle blue print) was nice for this Burda Style dress and a quality linen is lovely on my 1939 white dress.  Yet, neither would work for my ideal redemption of white pants.  I am always happy with silk fabrics, and figured a slubbed finish could provide opacity and interest.  The pattern calls for a raw silk, gabardine, or crepe. After remembering the variety of white fabrics I have worked with already, my sewing plans were directed to a white silk shantung.  Granted, I still needed to line it with a thin cotton, but this silk was exactly what I was looking for.  The crinkle texture is fun, too, because I don’t have to worry about ironing out all the creases.

     The white shantung I received was not what was expected when ordering, but it is gloriously fancy and happily amongst the most beautiful white fabrics to have come through my hands.  (Yes, it’s even nicer than my wedding dress!)  The shantung is a wonderfully light summer weight, not like other silk shantung I have seen or felt.  It is also semi-sheer, which is why it needed lining, and subtly shiny, perfect for highlighting the welt pockets).  The drape is soft but also structured, helping the pants naturally hold their shape.  Fashion Fabrics Club does not have the most accurate item pictures and listing summaries, and my orders are more often disappointments than surprises.  Uncertainties are a part of mail ordering fabric, I understand.  Even still, this particular silk was my best gamble yet and is a white fabric that is far better than anything I have previously used.  In the absence of high-end fabric found in-person at brick-and-mortar stores, being thoroughly happy with a sewing supply purchase is an exceptional occurrence for me nowadays.

     I was off to a promising start…so was the thought.  Several flaws were found in the fabric upon better inspection, and they weirdly sent me only half the amount of what I ordered.  After several weeks of poor customer communication and delayed shipping, Fashion Fabrics eventually sent a generous amount of replacement fabric that did not have any defects.  The second delivery, combined with the first shipment, left me with almost 4 yards…enough material to upgrade my plans and sew Ungaro’s generously cut trousers.  I’m so glad my order was messed up, after all, because the Ungaro pants were a better design choice for the white shantung than my original plans for skinny cut trousers.  My sewing projects often seem all the better for rolling with whatever ‘mistakes’ come my way.  Nevertheless, this is your reminder to always check your fabric orders for accuracy as soon as they come.  If I hadn’t checked right away, Fashion Fabrics Club might not sent me more material and I might not have had the chance to create such a great pair of white pants!

     Luckily, the selvedge of the material was 60” wide because this pattern is mostly composed of one gigantic main pattern piece.  Have you ever seen anything like this?  The piece is a yard and a half wide.  I laid it out with the selvedge opened up and folded the opposite way of how most fabric is on a cardboard bolt.  This large single piece gets cut twice to make up the entire pants since there are no side seams.  I was very glad for this simplicity of design lines after trying to sew with the shantung.  Its raw cut edges shredded like crazy!  Furthermore, reduced seams helped these pants be so quick to whip together, even with a full cotton lining.  It also keeps them easy to iron, an important factor since washed silk shantung requires specific maintenance (addressed in my post here).  Designer pants made easy?  Yes, please.  Silk pants that are not only versatile and but also washable?  That’s definitely a winning combo!  Comfortable and practical luxury items are my current favorite things to sew.

     Most of the forty-something hours spent on these pants went towards fine-tuning the details.  With such a giant panel of 3 plus yards making up the pants, the details are what makes this pattern design work out in the end.  The cuffs at the hem and deep pleats at the waistline give these pants a professional menswear air.  There are small belt loops along the skinny waistband and a secure closing fly front.  A button (from the vintage stash of my husband’s grandmother) and a sliding hook-and-eye close the waistline.  Many of these features were finished by hand stitching.   

     Last but not least, the best detail of all is the side hip welt pockets, which give me access to storage the size of a small purse.  Welt pockets are always such a beast to sew and cutting a slit in my seemingly finished pants felt nerve wracking.  The pattern instructions were good and clear, though.  I succeeded in sewing strong, clean welt pockets that are lamentably inconspicuous but are nevertheless a detail appropriate for these designer silk pants.  The best I am capable of goes into all of my sewing but especially for patterns which originate from an acclaimed designer.  Looking at the finishing details on original Ungaro pieces in my wardrobe has helped set a high bar for when I sew my own interpretations of his designs.    

My ’93 Ford Probe is behind me!!

     My first Ungaro design was shared in 2020, oddly relevant after the news that he had passed away a few months before.  The next year, I followed that post by sharing an Ungaro bomber jacket from 1985 (see it here).  I am now boomeranging back to where I started five years ago by posting these 1995 pants, seeing that my first 2020 Ungaro project was a year 1996 suit jacket.  Over a dozen Vogue Ungaro sewing patterns from his long career have trickled into my hands, and several of his extant garments.  I now have lots more inspiration to feed my future unwavering devotion to his artistry and talents.  The variety of styles he has brought to life since he began his couture brand in 1965 testifies to how he was a master at finding very chic and tailored ways to interpret the changing popular fashions over the decades.  I admire Ungaro’s vision and am so happy yet another one of his designs came into my life and redeemed white pants from my intense spite.  The summer heat is no sweat in clothing like this!