Historical Chintz Gown

     Within an hours’ drive from where I live is a notable fortress that once was a strategic part to the history of Midwestern America.  Fort Ste. Anne de Chartres still stands today – albeit partially demolished by time, weather, and the nearby water of the Mississippi River when it floods (almost yearly) – with some portions rebuilt since the 1930s.  However, the magazine house for the gunpowder is original and claims to be the oldest building in all of Illinois State, dating to 1750.  The current limestone fort, built in 1753, was preceded by three wooden ones, the first of which was erected in 1720. The fort was considered the French seat of government in the Upper Louisiana Territory until being occupied by the British in 1765.  It was meant to control “the Illinois country” – the area that supplied vital foodstuffs and supplies down the river to Louisiana.  The great George Rogers Clark claimed the fort in 1779 for American Independence as part of the “Illinois Campaign”.

Here’s my son in the top of the lookout above the main gates overlooking the Rendezvous…

     The array of buildings on the grounds help a visitor mentally picture the days, over 300 years ago, when Fort de Chartres was in its heyday, filled with soldiers, provisions, important townsfolk, and more…it is really wonderful!  The many events, fairs, and the historic annual “Rendezvous” also help fill in for the imagination. I have posted about this Rendezvous before (2015, 2016, and 2017).  We missed a couple years and then the Pandemic had the Rendezvous cancelled for a few more, so we were more than ready to go back to it when the event finally returned in 2021!  This post shows how I made sure to go all out in grand style for enjoying the Rendezvous again.  My ‘new’ historical outfit for that year comes into play as a proper follow up to my previous post, (see it here) where I mentioned our visit to the “Global Threads” exhibit.  I can now properly dive into the historical significance of Chintz fabric, showcase how it was used and worn in the 18^th century, and finally enjoy writing on how I finished this project which had been over 20 years in the making!

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  all fabrics are 100% cotton

PATTERN:  The underskirt was from a J.P. Ryan Co. pattern for a Pet-en-l’air or Robe a la Francaise ensemble while the outer gown was previously made (more on that later) – I merely had to fit and finish it

NOTIONS NEEDED:  Lots of thread and hook and eyes

TIME TO COMPLETE:  The underskirt took me about 5 hours to make in June of 2021.  Fixing the gown took me another few hours.

THE INSIDES:  left raw

TOTAL COST:  The skirt material (a sari) cost me $30 (from “Antique Art of India” shop here on Ebay) while the gown was bought for me by my parents many years ago so it is as good as free to me

     First of all, before I dive into explaining how this outfit came to be a reality, let me explain what kind of gown I am wearing, and later on I’ll explain who would have worn it back then, and the importance of it being made of chintz fabric.  The printed overdress I am wearing has a French term – Robe à l’Anglaise (English Nightgown) – often simply called an English gown.  This was an extremely common and universally accepted way of dressing in the first three quarters of the 18th century, besides being a ladies’ most versatile piece of clothing.  The style details changed slightly circa 1775 into what is known as an “Italian Gown”.  While both fall under the term “Robe à l’Anglaise” and both have an open front to the skirt (showing the underskirt), the main differences between the two styles are in the cut of the back bodice and front closing.  An English gown features a tight, fitted “enfourreau” back, which has a series of vertical pleats, stitched down flat, which bring in the excess fabric to fit the wearer.  The pleats of an English back are one-piece with the skirt fabric, making for a necessary excess of a very large cut of fabric…part of the reason this gown was seen as something so posh for the times!  An Italian back has a defined waist seam, panels to fit the back rather than pleats, and more variants of front closings that do not need a stomacher inset.  There are good overall comparisons between the two here on American Duchess’ blog and on this Google Arts and Culture collage.

I love how this dress is shown both with and without the apron, fichu, and engageantes sleeves

     There is much more to explain here, but for simplicity’s sake I have shortened the details just to show that my own gown of is actually blend of the English and Italian “Robe à l’Anglaise”.  My gown has the pleated back like the English style, but with a waist seam that cuts through the pleats, and a front center closing with simple, unembellished sleeves of Italian style.  I suppose this places my ‘look’ firmly between 1775 and 1780.  In my mental fantastical explanation, I’d like to think of my reenactment story as being a woman who desperately wanted to be seen as fashion forward.  However, not having a new pattern, limited fabric, or exact details of an Italian gown to work with, she may have come up with a cobbled upgrade to her English gown.  My outfit passes as an English gown, and since the location I was visiting – Fort De Chartres – is French taken over by the British, it made less sense to be wearing an Italian styled Anglaise.  Let me clarify, this blend of the two is not something I have found an extant garment example for as of yet.  Thus, before I get judged for not being truly ‘historical’ with a historical dress, this was not entirely of my doing.

     You see, unlike most of what I post on my blog, I didn’t start from scratch with this gown.  Even though I have invested plenty of effort to make it my own, this gown is not my work to begin with.  This came into my hands with the main body, lining, and all the major seams sewn already by an acquaintance.  She sold it to me 25 years back on the cheap (basically covering the cost of materials).  My parents were more than happy to help that a small business and encourage me in my re-enacting passion at the same time, so they bought this for me when I was a young teen.  I soon realized that as much as I loved the print and the styling of the gown, it was a problem that I didn’t feel informed enough to know how to fit and finish it to a proper historical appearance…until a few years ago!  All these years of holding onto it, dreaming of how to revive it from in its sad unfinished state, has been validated!

     An English gown has a structured, unique shape unalike anything I have done in historical costuming.  My previous 18^th century clothing was more casual and working class and so this silhouette was a different look I had to get used to.  Accentuating my booty and flattening out my chest does not make natural sense to me so it’s a style I enjoy for the sake of history or mere oddity!  After the learning curve of it all, actually acquiring all of the proper undergarments were the real intimidating and time consuming factor.  For many years I hoped to sew all the under layers needed, but there are only so many years to wait on that plan before realizing I would be over my head.  Besides, after so many years waiting to wear this, I felt I would just count myself lucky to finish up the ensemble! 

     I had bought myself some American Duchess “Kensington” heels and made a quick fichu (chest modesty piece, see this post for a clarification) from lightweight cotton scraps in my stash, so my accessories were on hand.  Then, I already had the under drawers (for my legs) and lightly boned stays (bought from a seller at the Chartres Rendezvous when I was a teen).  I love the fact that my stays are also in a chintz print!  I spent a bare minimum on the bum roll from a seller on Ebay who used the “Frances Rump” design from The Dreamstress’ Scroop Patterns together with a pillowcase to refashion a test sample bum roll.  It is not perfect, but it is cute, well made, and completely effective…besides saving me the time and extra money trying to sew it myself (which I doubted I could do).  The chemise was handmade to order from a seller on Etsy, and it is in the softest cotton imaginable, but it also has proper underarm Gussets, drawstring neck, and flat felled seams.  For $100, I had all the undergarments I needed, and nothing but the lack of an underskirt (petticoat) was holding me back from a wearable English gown.

    This kind of gown can either have a matching or contrasting underskirt – there was no way to match here but I didn’t want to go for a plain solid either.  The Indian sari I used for the underskirt is a reference to the Indian chintz of my outer robe.  It is weightless Indian cotton in a unique color that presents as a warm nut brown but listed as “Henna Green”.  There is metallic gold pin striping through the short width of the sari and bright magenta stitching in both the border edging and the end “pallu” panel.  Being a cotton, it is not as formal as a silk sari and so was slightly shorter in its length, being under 6 yards.  I only needed 3 yards for the skirt which left me with just enough to sew something else interesting (to be posted next). 

    The cotton sari is semi-sheer and so in lieu of a separate petticoat I decided to underline the skirt with a brown broadcloth.  This step gives the underskirt more structure and thereby I can easily get dressed in one step by having two skirts in one.  I further streamlined the underskirt pattern to have only one seam on the right side.  I only have one pocket and so the one placket opening on the right side seam accommodates my lack of having a pocket pair. (Pockets back then were something that was tied on separately at the waist to hang at hip level under your clothing layers…see this blog post for more of an explanation!)  

     The fact my gown has some unseen historical inaccuracies helped me feel more comfortable about adding some hidden modern features on the way to completion.  In the end, I just need to be happy enough with what I will be wearing to actually enjoy the reenacting.  Historical dressing is complex enough – as long I learn from the process, and find out the olden ways of construction, then I can opt out but feel satisfied that any inaccuracy I do is a choice but not from a lack of knowledge.  I found these posts on the blog “Tea in a Teacup” so very helpful and clear in explaining all the steps to all the layers needed for an authentic English gown.  

     The width of the sari and the broadcloth I was using was both 45” width, and so with a wide waistband and a deep hem the skirt was done with barely any cutting or further measuring needed…super simple!  The pattern instructions were basic but after doing some of my own research to find out what other historical costumers have done, it eventually made sense.  I ‘cheated’ and ended up just having a hook closure at the waist rather than running a twill tape tie through the waist casing.  Ties have the habit of coming undone while on me, and when there are so many layers to wear as in the 18^th century, I don’t want the worry of losing my underpinnings.  I was just happy to have successfully made something so new to me but also effectively finish it at the same time.  Overall it looks just how I hoped it would and pairs with the brown of my gown’s chintz print perfectly.  It is fancy without being over-the-top.  The cotton keeps this set cool and comfortable, and the sari lends itself to my love of the Indian culture and heritage arts.

     Middle class women aspired to wear chintz in the 18^th century.  A cotton chintz dress would have been the height of fashionable luxury, especially in a “Robe à l’Anglaise” style.  Chintz back then was designed as wide yardage so it could be used as home furnishing or for clothing…and maybe both if you were well off enough!  Cotton chintz was for the Western and American market since it was often made in a way that to copied the expensive woven silks of Europe.  It was a fabric that was regarded as a desirable exotic import, yet it also washed easily, kept its colors, and was relatively attainable.  Through the East India Trading Company, the British and French both built trading posts along India’s southeastern coast to compete for the finest chintz fabric in the newest prints.  Chintz was the core item of trade between the 1580s and 1830s.  In fact, by the late 17^th century, European companies imported roughly 700,000 pieces of Indian cotton chintz, with each being 50 feet or 15 meters long (this info from the “Global Threads: The Art and Fashion of Indian Chintz” exhibit).  The rising demand for cultivating the cotton necessary for chintz – the importing of which doubled in number by the end of the 18^th century – is sadly inexorably tied to the increase of slave labor in many of the satellite territories that both Britain and France colonized.  The growing demand also gave rise to look-alikes, and in order to protect their domestic makers Britain partially banned Indian chintz for 75 years in the 18th century, while France fully banned it between 1686 and 1759.  

     I quickly clarified what chintz is in my previous post (here).  Basically, chintz originated in present day Hyderabad. India.  It is a textile that has its print applied through mordants, resists, or dyes and hand produced by either wooden blocks or through the more complex process of kalamkari (bamboo pens).  Makers in India were highly skilled and previously made chintz for local use as a visual means to designate status, class, or location of living for the wearer.  Chintz producers switched gears into coming up with intricate prints and rich colors that would appease the world market once the Portuguese explorer Vasco da Gama successfully reached India in 1498 and ignited a demand for chintz.  The common trademark for chintz was a trailing or freeform floral design that was in a color against a light, plain background – much like my own gown!  There were the duskier chintzes, too, like what was used for my boned stays, but a dark background often designates that it came through Dutch traders. 

     Most of the old chintzes were also “glazed”, which used to be a rice powder, to add stiffness but also add a luxurious shine that enhanced the luxurious appeal of the fabric.  Glazed cotton has a rigid structure that crinkles like a brand new shantung or starched linen, making it mimic silk in the minds of 18^th century consumers.  It gives those classic stiff folds that look especially nice when all the yards of fabric which go into a gown get hiked up in the style “a la Polonaise”…but that is different kind of garment (French for a “Polish Style” gown).  For a Robe a l’Anglaise to have its skirts hiked up, it is called “Retroussée” (yes, another French word – this means scrunching the tip of your nose up).  The back skirt is crinkled up like vertical blinds from the inside with twill tape or ribbon but the stiff cotton makes the fabric puff out.  There are different ways to create this effect but I went with little rings that were sewn to the inside for two ribbons hanging from the waist to attach to.  Women were existing in public circles and dressing in their fine clothes outside of courtly circles like never before and the dirty, muddy, and wet streets made the “Retroussée” style practical as well as fashionable.  You can then wear your skirts down to fully show off your lovely dress fabric unhampered by creases.  This was really important for me to have as an option since my chintz is a glorious border print!   

     My hat is of course the crowning glory to my fancy hair.  This hat was one of the first things I bought as a pre-teen wanting to get into costuming…I’ve apparently always had a weakness for pretty headgear.  This is a bergère hat, which Wikipedia says “is a flat-brimmed straw hat with a shallow crown, usually trimmed with ribbon and flowers. It could be worn in various ways with the brim folded back or turned up or down at whim. It is also sometimes called a milkmaid hat, but is French for shepherdess.”  The Dreamstress (posted here) says that bergère hats first appeared in the 1730s, and were popular in various forms throughout the 18th century due to the pastoralism fad of the era.  

I love them because they stay on well, don’t smash my elaborate hairstyle (because it took so much time, too many pins, and lots of tutorials to do), and also shields most of my face from the sun.  I originally had an old French lace doily tacked to the flipped up back brim together with some paper flowers, but it now struck me as tacky (what was I thinking?).  I revamped the hat by taking those trimmings off and adding satin ribbon in the crown’s crease instead.  Several years back I did a similar historical ribbon revamp on my other bergère (posted here).  I think the pink ribbon is such a pretty pairing for the brown tones in my chintz.

     I hope you enjoyed this dive into the past with me and vicariously lived the excitement and struggle of my making of this complex sewing project.  We also went through so many French words, too, I feel like I gave a language learning course.  I ultimately hope this post demonstrates the value of persevering in your dreams and never giving up on what you are capable of achieving.  After tasting such success, I now have plans to upgrade my 18^th century wardrobe to sew my own super posh “Pet-en-l’air” gown (a pleated ‘sack back’ robe) in some silk taffeta I found for a few dollars.  Maybe I should just try out the Scroop “Amalia Jacket” pattern that I recently bought – I do have some lovely cranberry striped cotton ticking I have been saving for it.  I need to make sure I have a block of time to dedicate to those ideas before I pick them up.  Thus, for now I am merely looking forward to wearing my English gown once again…because I feel like an 18^th century princess when I’m in it!  I love to swish my skirts, hear the crinkle of the cotton, and bounce my false rump!  18^th century clothing may be weird and complicated, but ultimately I have found an outfit from the era that I absolutely want to bother to get myself into.  Pick up that crazy project you’ve been wanting to do for years…see how it paid off for me?!

Ice Skating in Victorian Style!

Before wintertime is officially displaced by spring for my region of the world, I would like to share my grand outing on a snowy day last month.  It was then that my newest historical costume made for a very memorable time ice skating.  This classic winter sport was immensely popular and accessible leisure activity for ladies of Victorian times.  I had to test how that actually worked out along with other like-minded women of the St. Louis Historical Sewing Society, of which I am a member.  My Victorian skirt from December of 2021 acquired a matching bodice and bustle adornment which I stitched together for the occasion.  Along with some new additional accessories, my original skirt had a quite different look that is more mid-1880s this time around…and I am ecstatic.  I was warm in the cold being a fashionable Victorian lady for an afternoon having fun wearing what I had sewn – what could be better?!  We skated at our city’s Steinberg rink, the largest outdoor ice rink in the Midwest (United States).

I did not expect to make a bodice to go with the skirt when I bought its herringbone flannel fabric last year, so this project was a surprise for me, too.  After cutting out the Victorian bustled skirt in an unconventional pattern layout to save material, there was a ¾ yard panel leftover plus some generous sized scraps.  “Why not try something out”, I thought a month before the date of the event.  My silk velvet blouse from my first Victorian outfit was too fancy and fragile to be trusted for ice skating, and neither was it warm enough.  I had nothing to lose aiming for a matching set.  If you know me, it will be no surprise that every scrap was utilized to maximum potential, and now I am pleased to no end that I have a set! 

As much as I liked my first attempt at a Victorian outfit, I am only now fully in love with dressing the “Industrial era” after this my most recent, ascetically coordinated 1880s outfit.  A fully me-made outfit was the proper dive headfirst that I needed to get a good feel for wearing the fashions from Victorian times.  Yet, doing so has left me itching to make a full-out fancy, sleeveless, trained evening ensemble out of moiré fabric…but I am getting ahead of myself.  Please enjoy a small portion of my joy through the photos of my wonderful day out skating in my Victorian outfit!

In case you are wondering, I will clarify that I had absolutely no problem ice skating in this and did not find it difficult, cumbersome, or restrictive at all.  Even though bodices of the Victorian era had little ease and wear close to the body, a garment that is properly fitted and tailored should not be restrictive.  I altered and especially redrafted the existing sleeve pattern to have better upper arm fullness, higher armscye, and more forgiveness by cutting on the bias.  Looking at old Victorian pictures, this doesn’t seem to be the ‘normal’ snug fit, but I am costuming for the 21^st century.  While I do aim for historical accuracy, I am going to make my clothes real-world conscious so they work for me the way I want them to, otherwise the best benefit to sewing for myself is negated.   

In contrast, the bodice is more true to the Victorian times than the way I set in my sleeves.  I fitted it perfectly like a snug body double to stay put on me no matter how I moved.  It was always poised and wrinkle free due to its 8 vertical channels of lightweight boning wrapping around my torso from the bust down.  The full range of movement in my arms makes sure to more than make up for the tight fitting bodice, and I was free to dance, throw snow, save myself from falling, or do whatever tickled my fancy.  Achieving this balance of a structured fit that still retains body freedom has similarities to the tailoring practices of couture fashion – something I will address further down in my post. 

I’m skating here with the fabulous Alyssa who blogs at “The Sewing Goatherd”

The short pannier undergarment I was wearing to bustle out my skirt behind me kept it from under my legs and gave a fantastic, impressive swish when I’d move around on the ice.  The ankle length of my sensible, unadorned walking skirt along with my simple, plaid apron drape was unfussy so there was nothing for my skate blades (or other people around me) to catch onto. As an 1889 edition of the Ladies’ Home Journal explains, “First of all, a skating costume needs to be short, and next it should be simple.”   I did not fall down once!  I even ran through the snow in this outfit.  Remember – just because my clothes may look old-fashioned doesn’t mean that I am that way personally, nor does modest clothing mean a woman can’t move around enough to still have fun.  Do not read a book by its cover. 

To complete my ensemble, I used several eclectic items from on hand.  First of all I am very proud of tweaking a vintage 1950s hat in my wardrobe to make it passable Victorian.  Bright colors, especially in velvet (if not fur), were encouraged and popular for at least some portion of a Victorian lady’s skating ensemble, as can be read in many publications of the times.  I took off the hat’s original netting and added on a matching red velvet ribbon from my existing notions stash (shocking how well it matches).  This way I could tie it under my chin like a traditional Victorian hat but it also would stay on well without needing a hat pin.  To further decorate the open crown, I pinned on another little bow up at the top.  A lace-trimmed satin pocket square (bought from my trip to Italy so many years back and worn as my neck cravat in my first Victorian outfit) went over my head’s crown under the velvet 1950s hat.  A 1930s era lace collar with an attached descending lace dickey filled in my Victorian bodice’s open neckline over my blouse (again, something I wore with my first Victorian outfit).  I used a reproduction brooch that I have had since I was a teenager to keep that lace collar in place. 

Finally, the most special accessory of all is my beaver fur collar – it had been my paternal Grandmother’s piece.  It gave me a little extra warmth, a bit a rich-looking luxury, and a touch of something extra special.  I was wearing her earrings, too!  I almost never go without wearing something from one of my ancestors at this point – no matter if I am dressing historical, vintage, or modern.  Fur seems to be one of the list commonly seen staples for trimming to a proper Victorian ice skating outfit.  I was so happy to give Grandma’s accessory an outing with me, even if it did cover up my neckline details which took me so long to complete.  In hindsight, I rather wish I would have had my fur muff (posted here) with me, too, but it did not match my overall darker, warmer brown tones very well.  I also did not want to run the risk of losing or staining it.  Oh well – I was plenty warm as things were and had a great time without it.  Other of my fellow Victorian skaters did bring their furs, though, as well as one Sewing Society member even wearing a pair of true Victorian skates!   

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  A dark brown herringbone printed cotton flannel was used for the skirt, a 100% wool twill for the neckline and cuff contrast (leftover from this Victorian apron drapery), and an all-cotton broadcloth in brown for the bodice lining.  A 1 ½ yard cut of rayon white plaid shirting was the front apron drape.

PATTERN:  Simplicity #5457, from Andrea Schewe, labelled as ‘Victorian 1880s’, from year 2003

NOTIONS:  lots of thread, lots of mid-weight interfacing, three packs of buttons for the bodice front, several yards of cotton covered feather-lite boning, 6 yards of rolled braid upholstery trimming, and lots of hook-n-eyes

TIME TO COMPLETE:  The bodice alone took me about 50 hours to do – most of it was all the finishing and details which I primarily did by hand.  The bustle adornment took about 5 hours to make. Everything I needed was happily finished on February 3, 2022 a few days ahead of the event.

THE INSIDES:  both bodice and bustle adornment are bag lined for a completely clean and tidy coverage of all raw edges.

TOTAL COST:  The flannel and contrast wool were leftover from my last project.  The broadcloth lining, boning and all other notions besides buttons were all on hand already from a rummage sale purchase last year, so I am not counting the costs for them either as it was negligible.  The 6 yards of upholstery trim cost me about $12, the buttons were about $6 for three cards of four, and the plaid shirting was $13 – all bought at my local JoAnn Fabric store.  In total just over $30!

Charles James, designer Evening gown, circa 1955, from the RISD museum, famously worn by the socialite Babe Paley

This project was not just a desire to improve upon my existing Victorian skirt but also a search for validation as well as answers after making my end-of-the year Charles James inspired bodice.  As I mentioned in my post, it is often said that his creations are inspired and loosely based on Victorian styles.  The more you look at the gowns he made in the 50s decade particularly, it is plainly obvious in the bodice shape and fit, as well as in the skirt drapery.  However, I said this as one who was quoting well-respected fashion historians.  I was also associating the two from the perspective of merely observing construction and design line similarities.  Even still, both come from something other than a hands-on means.  I have studied some X-ray scans and interior detail images of Charles James’ gowns to get as close as possible to personally inspecting such high couture pieces for comparison sake.  Then, constructing and wearing my very own 1880s bodice has given me that in-person confirmation that Charles James’ bodices are indeed very Victorian.  I feel so validated.  I am still so elated over this discovery! 

They are both very stable (can stand on their own apart from a body), multi-layered (composed of an exterior, interfacing, interlining, and lining), boned in many channels, close-fitting, and tapered low in the front but high in the back along the waistline.  Being an experiment, I wanted to try on the finished main body with my Charles James inspired 50s shantung skirt before the sleeves and any details were added.  I wanted an even better idea of how much a Victorian bodice could look like part of a Charles James gown.  I installed a separating sport zipper down the center front because I wanted a secure fit that wasn’t fiddly to close (which would be the case with hook and eyes) but also to help me be able to try this on properly as soon as possible because I was so excited.  The first try on for every single thing I make for myself or others is always so filled with nerves and anticipation.  I knew it would fit on account of my measuring at the pattern stage, it was just being able to finally see this bodice on me that blew me away.

I knew from the get-go that I was not going to be a die-hard for 100% true authentic construction methods as long as it is something not seen to anyone but me, anyway.  I did do clean, structural tailoring techniques that were more 21^st century than true Victorian (which often had quite messy interior finishing) and so very much hand stitching.  The inside looks so perfectly finished for my taste and achieves the ‘proper’ look in the end.  Thus, ignore the zipper and you can see that this is indeed what Charles James based his gowns on, especially the Babe Paley one I was inspired by (see picture of red dress above) when making my Tulip bodice (post here).  Look at how great it looks!  The fit feels similar to how a well-constructed 50s evening gown would be (I have tried a few on before).  This is an 1880s pattern, though, remember!  Sewing this bodice was the best tactile research project ever.

Now that I have sewn more than one item from Simplicity #5457, I can heartily recommend it.  The sizing is great and has a fit true to the charts.  I made no other tweaks besides lengthening the hem to the sleeves and adding in ‘reach room’, as I mentioned above “The Facts”.  I love how economical it is, too.  A whole Victorian set – bodice, skirt, and bustle decoration – out of 3 ½ yards (of main fabric) is impressive.  It comes together as easily as possible.  Even still, with all the tailoring, fitting, and finishing this is time consuming nevertheless so be prepared with a lot of patience, free time, and some sore fingertips.  This pattern is super versatile, as well, but that is the good thing about a simple design – you have a base for whatever strikes your fancy.  It is highly probable will be using this pattern again.

All of the detailing finishes were my own idea and design.  This includes the bustle adornment that is the trio of hanging tabs and not the little pleated rump peplum, which is attached to the bodice.  These were not part of the Simplicity pattern I was using for the main body of the bodice, but self-drafted or at least my own addition.  I drew up a frontispiece to cover the zipper and make it appear as if I have some sort of faux button placket.  It is tacked down to the bodice on the right side of the zipper and hooks closed on the left side.  One dozen decorative buttons decorated the frontispiece because Victorian fashions were opulent and extravagant, after all!  Then, the neckline and cuffs received the rope trim and then a thin, visible overlap of the same woolen which went towards my first Victorian apron drape (posted here).  Pieced together, I had just enough woolen scraps to make this idea work. 

I felt these additions added depth, interest, and complexity appropriate for the era.  Yet, as this was meant to be a basic and practical set, these decorative elements add the right touch of finery without any gold work, beading, or embroidery so common for the era – these were all too fancy for my intention.  The rope and woolen trimming were sandwiched in with every other seam’s construction except for on the bodice neckline and cuff hems, where it is hand tacked in place after the edges were fully finished.  I could not commit myself to what I wanted to add until after I could have to opportunity to try it on together with the skirt.

The bustle decoration is all I could make out of a few rectangles of material that were left from the bodice.  I think it is cute and different – totally my design while still convincingly Victorian inspired.  I didn’t want to overwhelm the simple apron drape with a draped booty bustle.  However, I was too short on fabric for that to be an option.  I have seen a few fashion images or extant garments which have basic bustle adornments that are similar to what I crafted for myself.  I lined the underside with matching fabric to cover up the raw edges so the tabs look just as good no matter which way they flap. I added more of the rope trimming (used on the bodice) into all the edges of the three hanging tabs to help them to be more decorative and seemingly intentional.  They were something I just cobbled together, after all!  In lieu of closures, I merely attached all three tabs to a length of brown satin ribbon (on hand, used to stabilize the inner waistline of my skirt) so I can tie it to my waist before I dress in my bodice…easy peasy and versatile!  

Just like for my first Victorian outfit, I was here again inspired by the brown and white dual tones worn by the woman on the far left in an original Godey Lady’s book original hand-tinted fashion page from April 1874 that is framed in my bedroom.  Besides my one book page print, however, I have found a plethora of fashion plates and extant 1880s garments which are in a variation of brown tones, contrasted by gold and/or white. Along that vein, I specifically wanted to complement the white of my blouse peeking out from under my bodice’s open neckline and ¾ sleeves.  My first apron drape was too bulky under the close fitting bodice, also seeming too fussy and drab when the skirt and bodice were matching.  I therefore merely hand draped a plain cut of yardage in a soft rayon to be my new skirt apron.  The plaid weave brightens up my overall brown tones and adds a level of simple sophistication with a touch of bright white, as I had wanted.  The plaid easily adds to the impression that there is more going on than there is (as it was super simple to incorporate it into my ensemble) yet keeps my set relatable.  Plaid was quite popular to use in women’s fashions of Victorian times throughout many countries.

My Indian sari pleating skills came in handy to “make” my skirt’s new apron drape…no stitching required other than to hem the fabric’s cut ends.  First, I asymmetrically tucked in the top half (most of one corner) to the plaid fabric panel into my waistline starting from my left side seam over to the other side of the center front.  Then, I hand pleated the free end, much like is done on a pallu (the decorative end) of a sari to drape it over the shoulder.  Finally, I brought it around to tuck the pleated end into my waist at the center back.  This process is so much easier to do in real life than to describe but it is really that simple – no pattern or sewing needed! 

I see many of such asymmetric apron drapes from the early to later half of the 1880s decade.  I love any asymmetric fashion and I feel that I can relate to Victorian styles better when I see them elegantly, artistically askew than perfectly uniform and proportionate.  The benefit to costuming in the 21^st century is here again (as I mentioned above previously) the ability to customize a historical style to my own taste, ability, and budget.  I don’t know for sure if such asymmetric apron fronts were historically sewn or draped, or even something that would have been paired with such an outfit as this.  Yet, whatever seems to work for me and achieves my own interpretation of the 1880s works for me. 

I recognize I have a LOT to still learn about the nuances of Victorian fashion.  Thus, I ask those of you who know what you are doing more than I to go easy on me here.  I love my newest historical set and am proud of my progress in interpreting this era, especially since – up until recently – it has been something I never remotely figured I would ever be sewing or wearing.  Victorian dressing was something I have long been content to admire from a distance.  It seems to be very complicated to understand.  The styles adapted every year or two, especially between the 1870s and 1880s…bustle sitting high, bustle sitting low, elevated hairstyles, cascading hairstyles, short waistlines, long bodices – and all these in different combinations!  Things must have been confusing for women of those times who wanted to stay “on trend”.  At least tailors and seamstresses or even home sewists were probably very busy tweaking hemlines, adding extension panels, and making accessories to keep up. 

This newest Victorian set is a big step further into exploring that well of knowledge which is fashion history but I have a feeling this era will be much more challenging for me to get a hold of fully in my mind than anything from the 20^th century.  I will keep trying, though!  I guarantee you this will not be my last Victorian project.  I just hope my next Victorian creation has such a fun time out as this one!  Ice skating in full Victorian garb is an event that will be hard to beat!

My Victorian Christmas

The royal Christmas tree is admired by Queen Victoria, Prince Albert & their children, December 1848

The popularity of Dickens’ “A Christmas Carol” novel from 1843 is one a strong reason why Victorian fashion always seems to be the choice for a historical “old timey” flair to the winter holiday.  However, the celebratory traditions of the Victorian era do have a large part to play in the way Christmas has been celebrated in last 150 years.  The traditions of sending greetings to friends and family, caroling, the Father Christmas figure, glittering trees, and showy wrapped presents which spread good cheer and abundance were each not original to the Victorian era and were celebrated across the world for centuries before (in some cases).  Altogether, by the 1870s these practices were solidified into being one holiday, all thanks in part to the wide publicity of the way Britain’s Queen Victoria began celebrating Christmas with her family in the 1840s.

As much as I love the aesthetic of a Victorian Christmas, I have long been a confused but always captivated admirer when it comes to Victorian fashion.  What is with the big rear end?  Is it difficult to wear?  Why were the trained skirts so “extra” when there were dirt roads and hazardous carriage wheels to deal with? How can there be so many various trimmings (pleats, ribbons, ruffles, and beading) that actually look so good together?  Every detail in every fashion plate or extant original is so beautiful but also so unusual, with the fanciest Victorian ladies’ outfits a lot to look at, for sure. 

I actually have an original hand-tinted fashion page from April 1874 Godey’s Lady’s Book framed in my bedroom (see it in my post under “The Facts”) that speaks for my lurking obsession.  Did you know that in both 1850 and 1860 Godey’s printed an Americanized version of Queen Victoria’s Christmas scene with her family, and it is known as the first widely circulated picture of a decorated holiday evergreen in America? Art historian Karal Ann Marling called it “the first influential American Christmas tree”, and it certainly helped anchor the tradition for the Western Hemisphere by the 1870s.

I am a hands-on type of girl, though, and just admiring for years was eventually not going to cut it.  There was only one way to ultimately answer some of my internal queries and satisfy my fascination – attempt to sew my own Victorian wear.  My mom had recently given me her stash of historical costuming patterns, so I was conveniently set.  I figured Christmas was the best time to pick up this project for reasons listed in the paragraphs above, but especially with the local historic homes decked out in old time finery fit for a background setting which would be 1870s appropriate.  I also realized that I did not have historic clothing for the wintertime – the lack of which has now certainly been amended in the most fantastic way!

The recent purchase of a highly decorative vintage silk velvet jacket (possibly from the 1930s) which would remotely pass as Victorian gave me an easier introduction into sewing this new-to-me historical era.  Thus, for this outfit, I only had the make the skirt and the apron drapery which goes over the skirt.  The jacket gave me a ‘starting point’ idea to work off of, as well as having half of my outfit ready-to-go.  Luckily, I already had a reproduction blouse on hand, a 1880s Red Threaded corset, a lightly boned bum pannier, and my 1860s undergarments (made by me, yet to be posted) to help the rest of the outfit easily come together.  My Grandmother’s brooch pins down a lacey pocket square serving as a ruffled neck cravat.

Using the vintage jacket for my bustle set hints at a running theme I will be having here on my blog for 2022 – the revivals of historical styles which can be found in vintage fashion of the 21^st century.  More on this coming soon!  On a basic level, the ‘not-true-Victorian’ jacket helped me remember to not be so hard on myself if I don’t get my first Victorian outfit perfectly historically correct.  Many of today’s most popular costumers are not strict about accuracy as much as I remember from being in re-enacting groups 20 plus years ago, but I am my own worst critic.  The older in era I sew, I want to be as accurate as is reasonable for both my means and my sanity (my Middle Ages dress is an exception). 

I acutely realize sewing is a journey and – especially for historical clothing – one can learn so much during the push to continue to trudge forward through challenges.  Looking back at the visible proof of that progress is something to be proud of, which is why I still love to wear things I sewed 10 and even 20 years ago.  I am confident this my first Victorian set will be very versatile to me, and be a work in progress that I will appreciate having made when I did…the way I did.  I have previously sewn and worn garments from the decades with bookend the Victorian era – Regency and Edwardian – so I am happy with anything fun, fancy, and swishy which fills that void.

picture of Lillian Robert from the DeMenil house

The location for my photos is the historic Chatillon–DeMenil Mansion, located in St. Louis, Missouri.  Construction on the house was begun in 1848 on a five-acre tract of the pioneer Henry Chatillon, somewhat famous as the leader of an Oregon Trail expedition.  In 1855, the house had then been enlarged to its present Late Greek Revival style form under the new ownership of prominent businessman Nicolas DeMenil and his wife Emilie Sophie Chouteau, the descendant of both of the founders of St. Louis.  Being a Victorian house, it was decked out in all of the era’s holiday finery.  I was so happy to hear the docent comment that I looked like an 1870s picture of Lillian Robert, the wife of the house’s heir Alexander DeMenil!      

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  a dark brown herringbone printed cotton flannel for the skirt, with poly felt – leftover from this hat project – to support the hem (I’ll explain more about down below) and a 100% wool twill for the apron drapery

PATTERN:  Simplicity #5457, from Andrea Schewe, labelled as ‘Victorian 1880s’, from year 2003

NOTIONS NEEDED:  Lots and lots of thread went towards this project – I finished up about four 250 yard spools.  Other than that, I needed lots of size 2 hook and eyes.

TIME TO COMPLETE:  The skirt combo took me about 30 plus hours to make (a large part of it by hand) and it was finished on November 30, 2021.

THE INSIDES:  all edges are tightly stitched over for a simple edge finish

TOTAL COST:  The dark brown skirt flannel was bought on sale at my local JoAnn store for $5 a yard – with 3 ½ yards, my total is about $18.  I’m counting the wool apron drapery as free because it was rummage scraps I picked up as part of a “$1 a bag” second-hand sale of material.  All notions were already on hand, most from my paternal grandmother’s stash.  What a reasonable way to dive into Victorian dressing, right?!?

the Godey April 1874 print in my bedroom

For women’s wear, the shape and placement of the underpinnings, as well as the size of the overall silhouette, changes subtly but still significantly over the span of less than any given 5 years throughout the general Victorian era (1837 to 1901).  I kept close to the year of my bedroom’s Godey print – 1874 – as my main inspiration, because that is what I see on a regular basis!  Nevertheless, the 1870s & 1880s is often seen as the classic trademark look of the “bustle era” to the Victorian period, and veering closer to the 1870s suited everything I had to work with already.  I do think that the date of 1880 for the Andrea Schewe pattern is at least 5 years too late – the late 1870s shifted into a more curvy natural form look for a number of years before returning to the full bustle.   

From my research into bustle era looks, it seems my outfit is more of an interpretive mix of trends which ranged between 1870 and 1876.  My velvet jacket has a natural waistline length, with close fitting sleeves that are set in at my natural shoulder in line with pre-1873 fashion.  My reproduction blouse and my jacket both have fuller wrists, as seen circa 1873.  Hoop skirts were just beginning to be replaced in 1869, so amplified rear ends at this time (early 1870s) were rather tame compared to the late bustle era.  The overskirt’s apron fronts and draped backs were detachable and shorter than any overlay that came post 1876.  These details are everything that this Andrea Schewe pattern has, hence my skepticism of the cover’s date.  Nevertheless, all of these historical details also happily suited my working with scraps, using what I had, and trying make this outfit on a budget.  I still used quality fabrics which would have been utilized for a garment back then, and my entire outfit – inside and out – is cotton, wool, or silk.  My hubby actually found the fabrics I used for my skirts – he has been trained well to know what material I like and is an expert at finding a good deal!

It is actually a very versatile set for historical dressing.  I am hoping to make a different overskirt and more dramatic drape in the future, as well as a matching bodice, so I can turn my underskirt from the current “walking outfit of a comfortably wealthy middle class woman” into a fancier, trained outfit of a wealthier woman.  Yes, visible appearance of class status was what was done back then, for better or for worse.  Finding out about the way women of different classes dressed is how we study Victorian fashion today, and understand them when modern costumers choose what to recreate.  I myself like a more practical look for a lot of my historic garments.  I enjoy wearing things that might have seen more use and been worn by more people like me perhaps.  It’s all part of my “stepping back in time” idea, I suppose (which I discussed here in this post, already).  It is also easier to start off basic and work up to some intricate finery!  

The skirt and its apron drape were really quite simple to make – the hardest part was adjusting to a different silhouette.  All the accoutrements, such as the pannier for the bustle back, petticoats, and a corset, too, needed to be tied, laced, and hooked on myself in between construction fittings to see how my two pieces would work for me.  I had a good beginner’s outlook to power me through.  After reading a few blogs (this post was especially helpful), I figured out that the best way for me to approach Victorian bustle outfits were to view them as nothing more than a bodice with a two part skirt – underskirt and overskirt (which consists of the front apron and the back drape).  No big deal…they just require a lot more material and in much weirder pattern shapes than what I am used to sewing.  Once I got my head wrapped around the undergarments and foundation, then I could understand what my end goal was and not be completely mystified during the construction process of my bustled skirts. 

I wanted warm fabrics in a natural materials, so my basic underskirt is flannel.  My hubby found a flannel that has a wonderful two-toned herringbone weave.  This makes such a basic cotton appear as if it was a brushed wool, or a suiting, and provides interesting texture.  To continue the warmth factor, and level up the underskirt, the apron and its draped overskirt are my wool twill remnants.  I would never have used such a fine woolen if it hadn’t have been small, hacked up remnants which were completely moth chewed (it was like this when we found it, hence it was offered as good as free). 

I normally dislike using really nice material on historical costuming clothing mainly because I get sad over the fact it will not see much wear when compared to my regular wardrobe.  If an expensive fabric will help my project turn out a successful recreation of my ideal I have no problem diving all in.  It is all about give-and-take.  However, it is ideal for me when a fine fabric has existing issues too obvious for a more fashionable design.  The deep folds of the pleated apron front drape hide moth chews big enough to slip a pencil through.  It also hides the seaming I did to come up with pieces which just barely fit the patterns.  I had to improvise my own back overskirt drape because of the lack of material, too.  I really wanted something more impressive over my bustled back, but I am just as happy to have ‘rescued’ a nice – but damaged – material from the trash bin.   

The way the details are put together are a mix of finely done and rather unorthodox.  In lieu of a proper waistband for both underskirt and overskirt, I used brown satin ribbon turned under inside for easy finishing and for stability.  Cotton flannel relaxes too much to trust to just interfacing (I’ve learned) and there was nothing left but tiny scraps of the woolen.  All hems and top stitching at the waist was prick stitched invisibly most just because I couldn’t find a color thread to match.  I just couldn’t bear the thought of a harsh solid stitching line jarring my efforts thus far to make a nice historical outfit here.  The extra mile is worth it to me…which is why I also spent so much more effort on the underskirt hem than what would be expected just looking at it.  Again, flannel is awfully limp, and my skirt hem needed some body, weight, and stability.  I cut a wide 5 inch strip of felt for the entirety of the skirt bottom, and tucked it inside the flannel hemline.  I have read and heard from my fellow historical costumers that Victorian and Edwardian skirt hemlines could be stabilized with canvas, horsehair braid, or some sort of interfacing to help the silhouette of the skirt.  Again, I was just working with what I had available.  The felt does a great job at doing just what I hoped it would do.  For never doing something like this before, I was really overwhelmed at this step.

The jacket is a very interesting blend of the old and the new, too.  The exterior is an older silk velvet, I can tell, especially by inspecting the decorative stitching, but the interior has modern poly chiffon lining.  When I bought it, someone had done some very pretty creative modern up-cycling to make it what it is today.  Subtle brown stains, indistinguishable in the fancy stitching, makes me assume this must have had shattered lining and different closures and been in a rather sad state.  I was happy to see another sewist’s great job of mending and thrilled to have a vintage piece (at a great deal, I must add) which didn’t need me to find the free time I don’t have for garment repair…all I had to do was enjoy wearing it.

The apron overskirt, as it was patterned, has these peculiar but very smart back yoke panels which reign in the deep side pleats, keeping them smooth under the back bustled drape (attached down halfway, also for ease of dressing).  I like the way the smooth helps the overskirt fit and lay in an uncomplicated way, yet I also do not know if this is a modern adaptation or a true historical but little used overskirt detail.  I have not yet seen such a feature on any other Victorian bustle skirt patterns through other companies, or even extant garments, but that doesn’t mean it isn’t possibly out there and I haven’t yet seen it.  Other costumers or historical seamstresses, come jump in the comments and let me know about this overskirt yoke!

Perhaps the hardest learning curve of going Victorian was attempting a 1870s hairstyle.  I bought a 7 piece fake hair clip-on extension kit at 18” length to add to my existing hair and followed this YouTube tutorial from “Silvousplaits” (highly recommend, by the way).  I played around with my “new hair” for several hours the night before my event to get used to working with it, and so the styling as you see it here is my 3 third attempt.  If I had bought a 22” fake hair extension set I might have been able to try the second draped and twisted hairstyle in the “Silvousplaits” video or even had my braid go all the way around.  I used hair flowers to cover up the raw end of the braid, with all the pins I needed to keep the silky fake hair in place, and utilized a basic hair comb to hold the braid down at my top crown.  Victorian hair was fancy anyway, so I really don’t feel bad about having to use something extra in my up-do – the fake flowers and greenery add a nice splash of color in my half-fake hairstyle. 

Again, after explaining my hair situation, I am going back to my old feeling that Victorian fashion is so weird.  I have never before used fake hair and I am not used to having to use more than what nature has bestowed upon me.  Just based off of my experience with trying to re-enact the bustle era fashion, I can see why the Victorian period is often criticized as the era for keeping up unrealistic appearances.  My hair is half not mine, my body is restricted into a then-societal expected shape, and I have a fake caged booty.  What a woman wore back then told every spectator of her class, marital, and monetary status.   There were many wars and shifting of national boundaries at that time.  I would not have wanted to be a part of that era, and find it interesting in a different way than I do for the 20^st century’s history.  I can’t relate in the way I can for the era my Grandparents lived through, but Victorian times had so many goings-on and such a shift in many aspects of life that the new Industrialism and colonial actions brought about…it is the history buff’s dream.  I like the fact Victorian times were the beginning of what we think of as modern living conditions, even if women’s fashion still had a good way to go before it too was ‘modern’.      

Perhaps a Victorian Christmas is too much for your taste.  Whatever way you celebrate this holiday, I give you my wishes for a happy, peaceful, and healthy holiday which will leave you with good memories, warm feelings, and a full tummy!  Yay – we made it this far through the year of 2021!  Now, for one more week to go so we can walk into 2022…  

“Big Apple Plaid” 1924 Frock

New York might have seen this outfit as the smartest dressing in year 1924, but it sure wouldn’t fly on streets of today.  How things have changed almost 100 years later now!  Nevertheless, I’d like to be up-to-date for 1924 and flaunt about in a more historical style for a change of pace!

For most of the 1920s, the decade did not look like the stereotypical “flapper” that everyone reverts to.  Realistically, they were quite conservative in their long length and loose fit, and almost dowdy to our modern eyes.  To recreate them in a way that makes them appear better than a costume takes a bit of a different mindset (such as understanding the underwear which gave them their weird shape) and attention to the finishing details.  This project was more challenging in the way that I self-drafted all but the three main body panels – which were from a true 20’s design – so I could copy an image from a year 1924 “National Suit and Cloak Co.” catalog which had caught my creative eye.  Having the perfect fabric and trimming on hand certainly helped convince me to make something wearable of the idea.  

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  100% cotton

PATTERN:  Butterick #1101, from October 1926 (I know the precise month/year only because of the comprehensive Butterick pattern dating charts provided here by “Witness2Fashion”. This pattern is from when Butterick started a new design style and numbering system so that is easy to track!)

NOTIONS:  Lots of thread, interfacing remnants, embroidery thread, and extra trimming (soutache and satin grosgrain ribbon) from my stash.  The creamy yellow ball buttons down the front are vintage from my grandmother’s stash of notions.

TIME TO COMPLETE:  This was finished on April 17, 2020 after about 10 hours put into the dress.

TOTAL COST:  This project is as good as free – the fabric had been in my stash for over a decade before becoming this dress, and the trims were something I got for a dollar each years back…who’s counting after all that time?!?

I will bet that the actual inspiration dress was made just a bit differently, but I did the best I could interpreting a small image into an actual garment using what knowledge I have of the era.  My dress is a comfy cotton which makes it a great dress for a low-budget historical dress, yet I have an inkling the original “fancy checked suiting” might have been a wool or slubbed rayon.  The trim I used is modern but exactly the same as something straight out of the 1920s – soutache and satin grosgrain.  The way I layered them together they create a low-key but very complex detail that garments of the era were so good at inventing.  It can be one thing to like a dress you see in a catalog, but then ending up liking it on yourself can be a whole different thing altogether.  Luckily, I think I personalized my interpretation of the chosen inspiration image just enough for me to enjoy wearing this, no matter how odd of a style this era’s true fashion can be!

The body of the dress fit right out of my vintage pattern.  Now granted when I say “fit”, I mean that in a 1920s way of being very loose, unfitted, and with straight lines.  Since I am an hourglass body type and my hips are ever so slightly my widest body feature, making a 1920’s fashion means I need the entire dress to be a tube which is as wide as my hips plus a generous wearing ease of about 4 or 5 inches.  Yeah, that sounds very unappealing, doesn’t it?!  This is why sizing charts on patterns of this era are not dependable (going by age?) and not easily understood.  Even though the bust was too big for me, I needed it for the hips because you don’t curve in the side seams to find a modern fit for true 1920s dress.  It’s not intuitive to make clothes fitting like this for someone living today.  The only thing I did change up was to cut out the sleeves on the bias grain to accommodate my larger upper arms needing more room for mobility.

I traced a paper copy of the pattern to work with even though the tissue was in fantastic shape and still pliable.  This true vintage pattern copy will be a great starting point for any other early or mid-1920s dresses I have a mind to make!  Ah, the version on the cover with the scalloped, two-tiered skirt portion is calling to me.  Only, I know I would definitely add beading and embroidery along the hems if I did sew up that cover dress…and there is enough going on in my life for quite a while now for me to add in something which would be so time consuming.

Making this little 1920s cotton dress was relatively quick and simple.  It was figuring out the details which took all the thought and bother!  As I have said for most of my historical projects (by which I mean 1920s and earlier), they look like nothing but awful, ugly failures up until adding one little detail which suddenly brings everything you’ve worked on together.  For my 1917 dress, it was adding both the lace on the front piece and rosette ribbon on the sheer hems which made it appear like an actual dress and not just a concoction of fabric.  For my 1912 walking suit, it was the hat that added that extra oomph I was lacking.

Here with this project, it was at first the arrow points I embroidered at each end of the faux pockets at the hipline that made this idea work, but that wasn’t enough – then the collection of ten front placket buttons made the whole project come together.  Ah, the power of the ‘little things’ is never to be underestimated.

Figuring out what trims and notions to add was more difficult than drafting all the add-ons to that basic 20’s sack which was to be my dress.  At least with drafting patterns, it is all math and technical measurements!  Making up one’s mind about finishing details can be the hard – but fun, too!  Using the main body of the dress as my base line, and my little inspiration image for reference, I self-drafted the giant ‘pilgrim’ collar, the front placket pieces, and sleeve cuffs (which I didn’t end up using).  For the front bias flounce coming out of the placket, I used a Simplicity #Simplicity 4593, year 2005 skirt pattern for reference (such as figuring what grainline to choose) and then proceeded to draft my own according to the size I needed.

It was tricky to discern proportions.  On a 20’s dress that is over the body much like a sack, how do you properly visualize where the natural waistline and hips actually are?!  I had to make my front placket fall lower than the 1924 fashion image might show because it was hard to get the dress on otherwise (as my front placket was a workable closure, not just for show).  Once I figured that out, then I could measure the flounce piece to match, and estimate how to strategically make the most of my just under 3 yards of trim.  I ended up with only a few inches of soutache/ribbon leftover and nothing but small scraps left for the dress’ cotton, which is incredible after starting out with over 3 yards (45” width)!  Whew, I just made this idea work.

I kept the dress’ insides and construction simple – raw seam edges, bias tape in lieu of “proper” neckline facing, and all machine stitched seams.  Because the dress’ fabric was so see through, I skipped out on doing true welt pockets and did the easy ‘fake’ version.  The front placket has just five large hook-n-eyes (also true vintage) underneath because this dress hails from a time when it was still considered improper to have the means of closing one’s dress in plain sight.

You bet I’m wearing my 1920s combination underwear (posted here) underneath!  Believe me, modern underwear only brings attention to the fact that this style of dress is baggy and unfitted, besides the fact it doesn’t give the full historical effect.  Honestly, the early 20’s are super comfy to wear and not confining in the least, like a good nightgown.  If it wasn’t for all the other accessories, I would be ready for bedtime, ha!

I’ll admit, this project has been languishing as an unfinished project for two years before now.  The fact I am staying at home more is for some reason helping me have the fire to finish projects started, cut, and ready-to-sew.  It is so hard to have the gumption to sew something that will not see possible everyday wearing like much of my post-1930’s vintage garments.  Yet, my great impetus for finishing this project finally was recently happening to find the perfect hat to match.

All of my accessories here are vintage – and the hat is the cherry on the top!  It is a true-to-the-era original from around the same period as my dress.  It has a crown of silk velvet, with velvet ribbons around the brim, and was handmade by a talented home milliner by all that I can tell.  Sure there are a few chews to the velvet, but the wool base is untouched and the silk lining is not shattering.  To think this is in such good condition for being a century old blows my mind, and I am tickled to be wearing it with such a complementing outfit.

My shoes are true to the early 20’s with their pointed toe and French heel, yet they are of 1980s era.  The 80’s had a resurgence of many old styles, and besides 100 years ago, from my knowledge they are the only decade that came back with a strong, hourglass-style curving French heel (quite hard to come by otherwise).  Generally, 1980s shoes are unwanted today and can be found in plenty at my local thrift stores – happily they are also great for providing great 20’s style footwear that is in much better condition than their original counterparts.  Mine are a lovely suede leather and bring out the burgundy colors in my set!

Even the building backdrop to my pictures was built in 1924! How cool is that?

I do believe this to be a nice “street dress”, meaning something that would be worn out of the home to do things like shopping downtown or business-related duties.  It is too nice for a housedress, but the fact that my version is of cotton brings it down a level from, say, a ‘Sunday best’ kind of wear.  Sure, all those glitzy evening gowns or luxurious party dresses are so easy to gravitate to, but personally I appreciate the clothing that was more for everyday living.  It is more of a teaching opportunity/learning experience then.  I learn from the research and actual sewing which goes into my making such an outfit.  In exchange, I find that I can wear such an outfit to living history events or for historical presentations and my clothing only helps others both learn from me as well as feel welcome to ask questions.  It’s a win-win!