Two Hour Blouse Refashions for Two Hour Skirts

     I love to pointedly integrate math into my sewing, as you may read time and again here on my blog.  Almost as much as that, I also love extending the enjoyable use of my existing wardrobe in a thrifty and renewable mindset.  This post combines both those approaches to my creativity into one post!  Here you get to also see what I wear when I am not in vintage fashion.  No matter what I am wearing, I make sure something to each outfit is me-made, to some degree, and refashioning the store-bought items left in my wardrobe helps me reach that goal!

     The math here is a combination of a whole lot of twos or fours, especially if you pair things together.  I am presenting a duo of refashions which became blouses that each only took me two hours to complete.  These two refashions were items in my wardrobe that I still loved enough to hold onto, yet they fit me far too snugly.  I sized them up by cutting out panels about 4 inches wide from off of the extended hems (one had originally been a dress and the other a tunic top).  Now they fit again, with a fresh new look to boot!  I like to pair them with two skirts that took me only two hours to sew when I made them twenty years ago…and 20 is a number that can be equally divided by fours or twos.  Had enough of my “mathing”?  Let me add in just one more point – the skirts are made of four of the same bias cut panel, making them super easy to cut and assemble!  Growing up, I would have never guessed I would end up enjoying math in such a practical manner, but I love to see how this post’s outfits are fun and comfortable extensions of me merging my style of today with fashions from my past.

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  The one skirt is a polyester satin while the other is a quilting cotton.  Both tops are a cotton and poly blend.

PATTERN:  The blouses were a refashion and no pattern was needed to size them up.  The skirts used McCall’s #8796, a pattern from 1997.

NOTIONS NEEDED:  Mostly just thread, with ½“ elastic needed for the skirts’ waists

TIME TO COMPLETE:  As I said above, each blouse and each skirt was its own 2 hour project!  The blouse refashions were done just a few months back while I made the skirts in the early 2000 decade.

THE INSIDES:  Since I was still living at my parents’ house as a teenager at the time these skirts were made, I cleanly finished the seams with my mom’s Bernina overlocker (serger), even though they are both fully lined.  The blouse refashions of recently have my ‘faux overlocking’ – multiple layers of tight zig-zag stitching over the raw edges.

TOTAL COST:  Refashioning something you have with only what is on hand makes this a zero cost project, especially since the skirts were made so very long ago…

     I always have such a weak spot for anything military inspired, as well as camouflage green.  (See this sweatshirt, my 1940s suit, this dress, and my map print blouse for a few posted examples of how much I love camo and military stye.)  This garment has both of my favorite things, besides offering amazing brass hardware for an adjustable sleeve length together with nice and roomy pockets!  However, it used to have even more pockets and be a different type of garment before now.  I bought it second-hand in the mid-2000s when it was a slim fitting shirtdress with metal buttons all the way down the front.  I’m guessing the origin date to be the late 90’s, and is a lovely, wrinkle-free gabardine twill that is thick but also a wonderfully comfortable fabric.  It has a “Made in Spain” label by a brand that I do not know because I cannot decipher the cursive.  (Please let me know if you can read the label!)  

Circa 2014, I had adapted the closing to be a zip front instead, to give me some room since it was a little snug.  I took off the buttons and then covered both the cuts in the fabric (left from removing the buttons) as well as the buttonholes with olive toned twill ribbon.  The applied ribbon ran vertically along each side of the zipper.  I gained 2 inches with this quick fix, yet still retained it as a dress for a while.  Now, however, my current hip width and the shoulders no longer fit into the dress, and the only fix I could think of was to change up it up more drastically to continue enjoying it.  Thus, this post is showing you the second refashion (and probably the final incarnation, too). 

     It has been many years since I’ve worn it as a dress.  I had worn this at a military reenactment to meet up with an old friend (who has since passed away).  The last time this dress was enjoyed was probably 2015 when I wore it to a small concert venue to watch a performance by one of my favorite bands, the “Plain White T’s”.  I got to shake Tom Higgenson’s hand that night!  I wanted to preserve those good memories this dress reminds me of but still also enjoy it, so I was ready to change up this garment’s use. 

     Firstly, though, I needed more fabric to add room.  Unzipping the front, the amount that gaped open to a comfortable fit told me how many inches I needed to add in. That number was then divided in half to be appropriated to each side seam.  The large cargo pockets (at thigh length) were taken off for the hem length to be sacrificed.  I added in rectangular panels (the length of the hem circumference) which stretched from the sleeve edge to new bottom hem edge.  This creates a sort of underarm gusset that stretches down into a side panel.  Each panel is four inches in width, and a ½“ seam allowance on each side means I cut two panels of 5 inches, thereby shortening the dress’ hem by ten whole inches.

This adaptation turns this into a jacket-blouse combo piece that I am already getting more use out of than I ever did when it was a dress.  This jacket-like blouse is even more military looking now, as well.  I left the fit roomy on purpose so I can add layers underneath if I want, as I did here.  I can always take the seams back in, but this is most likely my last chance to take it out. 

     I have previously shared other varieties of this tried-and-true skirt pattern (posted here, as well as here) but this version is by far my top favorite and most worn.  The print makes it look like a suiting tweed at first but it is a silky polyester, so it flows like water around me.  It is an unexpected anomaly of the appearance of texture not matching with what is really there.  I just love the color scheme – a mix of dark brown, tan, burgundy, and olive green – being so versatile.  It can be casual as worn here or dressed up with a blazer. 

I have gone into detail about the construction, assembly, and features of this skirt in the two previous posts mentioned in the links included above.  Thus, I will not be overly thorough here.  Suffice it to say that this is such a comfortable and versatile style which is elegant at the same time as giving me full range of movement.  Three different views offer a choice of fullness – this one is the fullest (view C) while the next version I highlight is the mid-flare (view B).  Cutting out is an hour or less and a great way to dive into a bias grain project.  If it wasn’t for the elastic waist, I might not even be still wearing these older me-made items anyways. 

See a fresh-faced younger Kelly wearing her mock tweed skirt at a Roman restaurant.

     Few of my handmade items carry so many special memories as this particular skirt.  I brought it with me on two trips, one of which was my trip to Rome, Italy in 2004 (when it was a newly made piece in my wardrobe).  The cleaning lady in our Roman hotel actually stopped me one morning to let me know in her limited English vocabulary how much she liked what I was wearing…little did she know it was handmade!  Yes, my me-made wardrobe made me look much nicer than the average American tourist, but I didn’t care.  This skirt has lived through a large chunk of my life with me, and I love that fact. I might be counterculture here, but I am so happy to still be enjoying something I sewed so long ago.  When I made this skirt, I never would have thought that I would have still be wearing this today.  Not relying on the whims and direction of fickle fast-fashion, I can focus on what my personal taste is and curate my own sense of style for a wardrobe that is an authentic representation of myself.  Being the creator of my own wardrobe can easily enable any immediate changes in my fashion taste but in this case also perpetuates the personal preferences that also do not change.       

     The second skirt to be featured here is different than the previous one in shape on account of the stiffer quilting cotton, even though both are of the same pattern.  It all goes to show how the choice and understanding of fabric makes all the difference in the world when planning a sewing project.  This skirt is flatlined so the polyester inside is more like a backing to the cotton exterior, so I end up with a flowing skirt nevertheless.  Again, this one is a mix of colors that makes it versatile and easy to match with.  It is a dark floral that works well for cold weather, so I am not completely at a loss for flowers in the winter.  Yet, there is nothing as appealing to me as some rich jewel tones, and so I prefer to pair up with the main color in the skirt with my refashioned blouse.

     I had worn this old store bought blouse a time or two to go out on dates with my husband when we first met, so it had memories, to be sure – mostly I just still appreciate all the tiny pintucks and insertion lace as being details I might not sew myself.  I love the bright fuchsia color, as evidenced by the fact I have sewn several other projects in a similar tone (such as this 1940s blouse and this Burda Style dress).  However, the high, underbust “waist” combined with the hip length tunic bodice has not been my favorite combo lately.  As the top became smaller in fit, I found I wasn’t willing to part with it either.  There were fabulous rows of tiny pintucks which ran parallel to the hemline, and so I was determined to save them as part of my re-sizing effort.  How to do that was the real mystery.  I had to wait for an idea to come to me, like a light bulb turning on in the dark. 

     One day, after another random try-on, I realized that the front fit me terrible only because the back bodice and back shoulder line were far too small on me.  If I merely added room across the back, the front should then fall into place properly.  It is hard to explain how I realized this, and it is indeed a very tricky thing to correctly read an ill fit.  It is something I learned from many experiments and thus much experience over the years.  In this case, the back shoulder line was pulling about two inches too far into my back away from my shoulder.  Two inches on each side meant that a center panel insert needed to be 4 inches when sewn in.  This calculated to being 6 inches wide as a cut piece, just to account for the lack of a seam allowance in the blouse body.  In order the get a straight piece that incorporates the pintucks yet is also wide enough for what I needed, I realized my top was going to be much shorter and end right at waist length.  I wasn’t sure about this at first, but there was no other option.  I ended up liking how the cropped look gives a fresh, fun, modern, a youthful look that is a welcome replacement for what the top looked like before (of which I didn’t take a picture of, wah). 

     This refashion has bestowed such vast improvement on the original, I only wish I had done it sooner.  With the pintucked hem panel becoming the center back panel, it looks natural and decorative and as if was always meant to be there.  I kept the elastic shirring that had been in the center back for extra ‘give’, and shortened the front button placket, thereby saving the extra buttons and sewing them to the inside side seam label, just like many ready-to-wear items.  The covered buttons pop apart every so often anyway over the course of wearing this, so I am glad to have replacements now.  This seems to be what the blouse was always meant to be.  I finally figured out how to make this mediocre store-bought piece be as uniquely fantastic on me as I always wanted it to be.

     Nothing went to waste with this refashion and every literal inch cut off went back on.  The little bit of extra pintuck panel that was leftover went towards making a modesty placket to the front button opening.  These kinds of panels are merely an inner flap of matching fabric that is sewn to or in with the left closure edge so there is no gape exposing skin, slip, or lingerie from the space between the buttons.  This lack of a modesty panel along the front buttons were just another feature to the original blouse that has always bothered me and I had just enough fabric left for this purpose that the situation seemed almost surreal. 

     Now that the front gaping is remedied – along with a fresh silhouette and better fit – I am so over the moon with this bright fuchsia blouse.  The first military-esque refashion has me equally ecstatic, though, and I do like this new version best, not just because I have put my mark on my ready-to-wear.  Both items have been redeemed, personalized, and saved from a landfill.  Both projects gave me a quick and satisfying mission to complete that also maximizes my wardrobe without adding more or spending a cent.  They feel like something new even though they’re technically not.  I invested less time in turning around something on hand already than it would take me to drive to a store and try on a million different things to find one item worth buying.  This refashion was certainly less time than if I had started sewing something comparable from scratch, as well. 

     Here I go parsimoniously calculating my time and money saved just the same as I exactly figure out my math numbers in my sewing!  It’s no wonder I felt like dancing instead when my husband was trying to take these blog pictures.  Sewing successes like this make me so happy…and happiness is not something that can be counted by numbers!

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?!

Chintz and an Indian Print Shirt

I wore my Punjabi Kurta tunic that I made from a vintage sari – posted here!

     One of the highlights of 2022 for me was having my town’s Art Museum hosting the acclaimed exhibition Global Threads: The Art and Fashion of Indian Chintz, which is produced and circulated by the Royal Ontario Museum (ROM).  I considered visiting Canada just for this exhibit when it opened in Ontario in September of 2020…unbelievably, however, it subsequently came to me!  We attended all the presentations, curator talks, and related events, as well as even joining our Art Museum as a member just to have unlimited free access to the Chintz exhibit.  Nevertheless, it had a shortened opening time, and is now closed for visiting by the time I am getting around to posting about the exhibit – sorry!  As I have said before, I am still catching up on so many things from last year!  Nevertheless, as a replacement, I highly recommend purchasing the ROM’s exhibit book as well as following my posts about the outfits I made for the event’s occasions!  I say “outfits” in plural because I sewed something related and appropriate for our exhibit visits not just for me (to be shared in a follow up post) but for my man! 

Kalam bamboo pens as shown in my picture from the Chintz exhibit.

     A rich red is for auspicious and joyful festivities, so I thought the opening day for the Chintz exhibit was celebratory enough to merit hubby wearing the vibrant color.  Often, gold (in the form of embroidery or jewelry) is paired with the color red, but that is when the fabric worn is silk, such as for weddings and festivities.  Since this is an everyday cotton blend fabric, the beige and tan tones stamped into the blank spaces left from the resist mordant calms the red down and keeps this shirt more casual.  I realized that the exhibit featured chintz prints and my hubby’s shirt fabric vaguely fit into the exhibit’s definition of chintz, but that is a blurry, controversial topic.  The exhibit presented the distinction between the two (at the manufacturing level) as being that chintz has its prints individually hand drawn with a kalam bamboo pen, not just primarily stamped or resist dyed as is done to a block print.  However, many chintz prints utilize blocks or resist mordant to supplement (in some degree) the kalamkari handiwork.  Both prints often use the same dyes, oxides, or inks.  Thus, I figure my husband is dressed in a fabric that is a simpler “close relative” of the chintz we saw in the exhibit! 

     There are more differences between chintz and block prints yet to be mentioned, but I will not dive into the weeds here.  I just want to focus on how we were trying to honor India’s fiber arts heritage along with the exhibit by having this shirt for the occasion.  Most importantly, my hubby really seems to like his first taste of just how wonderfully soft and uniquely stylish an Indian block printed cotton can be to wear.  I hope you look into the beauty behind the history of Chintz and consider finding an Indian cotton print to work with for your own projects – whether they are for others or not.  You will not be disappointed!

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  a soft cotton and flax blend Indian block print for the main shirt body with a solid red cotton broadcloth as the inner shoulder lining as well as the under collar contrast

PATTERN:  ”1950’s Men’s Sport Shirt with Front Detailing” vintage pattern reprint (listing here) from the “Vintage Sewing Pattern Company” on Etsy. 

NOTIONS NEEDED:  lots of thread, interfacing, and two natural coconut buttons

TIME TO COMPLETE:  The pattern itself took several hours to assemble, trace and resize down, but the actual sewing was a total of 12 hours and finished in September 2022

THE INSIDES:  I tightly zig-zag stitched over all the raw edges to imitate serging (overlocking)

TOTAL COST:  The fabric was an end-of-the-bolt remnant on sale at $15 for 1 3/8 yards, and everything else cost pittance as it was all leftovers from other projects, already on hand.

     The overall fit of this design is relaxed, boxy, and meant to be a closure-free pop-over-the-head shirt.  However, pullover or not, it is classic for menswear of the 1950’s decade with its dropped shoulder line, obnoxiously wide collar, and generous sizing.  The interesting chest paneling that incorporates working pockets carries the heart of the design.  It was so fun to sew, see how it turned out, and subsequently have my husband enjoy it.  I love a good design anyway, but especially one that leaves open the perfect opportunity for having fun with a directional fabric print as this one does. 

     I contacted the seller that reprinted the pattern to hopefully find out more information so I could more precisely date this design.  They kindly let me know it originally came from Woman’s Own, a British lifestyle magazine first published in 1932 and continuing to this day (albeit with more celebrity gossip and no patterns).  A man’s shirt pattern coming from a line so specific in name to women is rather humorous in its irony.  Nevertheless, by knowing the pattern number and then finding a few other Woman’s Own patterns which were dated with a nearby number, I was able to place my hubby’s shirt between 1958 and 1960.   It wasn’t until after circa 1963 that menswear styles started slimming down with smaller collars.  Menswear changes very slowly and clues to dating vintage styles for guys lies in the subtle details.

     This post’s project pattern reminds me of a previous 1950s pullover shirt that I made for my husband (posted here), which was also in an Indian cotton.  However, this design has the decorative panel coming across the chest and a full convertible collar.  The instructions were clear and well laid out, being a newly digitized reprint, while the pieces matched up perfectly.  The design is so economical, too – the numerous pieces make it fit on a smaller cut than it would otherwise.  If you didn’t notice my point in the “The Facts” above, I did make this out of just over a yard…but then again I am a pro at eking out efficient pattern layouts!  My biggest challenge was restricting my layout availability for the pattern pieces by having the stripes change direction from vertical through the body to horizontal across the upper panels. 

     Dramatic work was needed on the pattern at the paper stage before any cutting.  I did a pattern fitting on him because a pullover shirt in a woven (with no stretch) needs to be a tricky balance of a loose fit that does not drown the wearer.  It needed to be sized down to a whole size smaller than what the pattern’s size chart showed that my husband needed.  Evenly, in small, spread-out increments, I pinched out about 4 ½ inches across the width of the chest (which was tricky to do with the geometric paneling), with 2 of those inches solely out of the collar.  This was supposed to get the shirt down to a 38” chest, 14” collar according to the pattern’s size chart, yet the finished garment fits like a 40” chest, 15” collar.  I also found that the pattern had the chest panel running too low.  Looking at the pattern, the pocketed chest panel needs to run across from arm to arm.  If I hadn’t folded up the pattern piece by a couple of inches, the chest panel seam would have dropped below his arms to run across his upper torso.  I was looking out for him ahead of time, though, and eventually nailed down the fit, but as long as my man likes what I made for him, that is all that matters.

     It was crazy how I needed to cobble together the one piece that didn’t fit in the pattern piece layout – the shoulder panel.  Being one of the smaller pieces, the shoulder panel was sacrificed to be assembled from the leftover cuttings since I wanted the stripes to run horizontally.  I somehow organized 7 individual scrap pieces in a way that remotely matched enough to make the seams indistinguishable (see picture above at far left).  I ironed the entire panel so all the pieced seams would lay flat (see middle picture above). Nevertheless, it is the interior lining panel, being cut – as it should – in one solid piece, which helps support that section and keep it in the correct shape (see far right picture above).  I love lining the shoulder panel of shirts – it creates such a clean interior and gives a professional finish in one easy step!  Plus, lining panels are a perfect way to use smaller scraps of fabric, especially when it adds a fun little contrast of color. 

     The coconut buttons on this shirt are a special touch that makes me smile.  Natural wood buttons are frequently used in India’s fashions, but nevertheless I wanted to keep everything about this shirt as natural as possible.  No polyester is to be found here except for a small amount blended in the thread!  Coconut buttons, however, seem to absorb water easily and so cannot take a soaking at all.  I might want to just do a quick hand wash to clean it.  If coconut buttons get too wet, in my experience, they separate or just plain start to fall apart!  These have some sort of glazing on the front so maybe they will be sturdy for a while…we will see.  For now, they tame down the rich red tone and are the perfect mix of being a ‘nicer-than-normal’ shirt button but subtle enough to not be too noticeable.  After all, pockets always seem more fun than they already are when there is a neat button to close them!

Another amazing picture we took from the Chintz exhibit!

     I know I have made plenty of Indian inspired garments for myself, so I hope you enjoyed this different approach to sewing something using that county’s great fabric offerings.  Even though this shirt is not glaringly different, I suppose it’s still quite a unique thing to make for my man – definitely something one would not find anywhere else!  Yet, that is one of the main reasons for home sewing, right?  To fuel that creative drive for fulfilling a personal vision as well as to have unique well-fitted garments for me and others to wear are some of the things I enjoy about sewing…how about you?  Let’s all be happy he accommodated me enough to model his shirt and work through his unwillingness to be on the other side of the camera!

“More Love” Patrick Kelly’s Heart Bustier Dress

     The overall theme to the entire life of the “American in Paris” designer Patrick Kelly was one of boundless vibrancy of life, hopeful positivity, and more love.  This welcoming, joyful spirit extended into every portion of his life, but is especially visible through each item he made throughout his all-too-short career.   However, being a black man growing up in the 1950s and 60s of the southern states of America, he was by no means immune from being the target of hate, prejudice, marginalization, and dismissive behavior.  In return, his loving attitude towards life in all its facets is what made him so especially respected by everyone who he met…because love is the best kind of contagion!  Perhaps it was a result of his taking to heart the words of the great Martin Luther King Jr., “Hate cannot drive out hate; only love can do that.”  He always began every runway show by spray painting a giant red heart on the wall which showed his name.  How can you not fall for a designer so centered on the cultivating the basic needs of life – love and happiness?!

     Thus, I feel that a dress from Patrick Kelly’s “More Love” collection (of Fall/Winter 1988-1989) is most appropriate to share here for Valentine’s Day.  Do you see the “sweetheart” shaping front and center on my dress?  After all, he is one of my favorite designers – and not just because we share the same name – besides being my current muse and inspiration.  Even with this post having a ‘love’ theme, highlighting this designer will not be exclusive just to Valentine’s Day.  I have plenty more of his designs to showcase here on my blog yet to come.  May Patrick Kelly’s influence through my sewing his fashion fill your life with a little “More Love” through the entire year!

THE FACTS:

FABRIC:  “Peach Cable Knit Athleisure Fabric” from my local JoAnn Fabrics store.  It is 49% Rayon, 29% Polyester, 19% Nylon.

PATTERN:  Vogue ‘Individualist’ pattern #2165, year 1988, an original from my personal collection

NOTIONS NEEDED:  one long 22” invisible zipper and lots of thread; I added a button to close the neck

TIME TO COMPLETE:  This was made in about 15 hours and finished in December 2022.

THE INSIDES:  The fabric does not unravel or fray so the inner edges are left raw and unfinished

TOTAL COST:  Two yards of the knit fabric cost me $25 and the heart buttons and zipper brought my total up to just over $30.

     This is not the first time I have channeled Patrick Kelly, but rather the third.  My first look (posted here) was inspired by his trademark “buttons” dress.  Go read through that post of mine to learn an overview of his life and the why and what I admire so much about him.  Then, for the “Designin’ December” annual sewing challenge, my entry used an authentic Patrick Kelly sewing pattern to channel a year 1988 dress with his second prevailing theme of bows.  My post about that dress can be found here, and was a blast to make and wear for Christmas. 

     This post is about another 1988 design, also sewn using a trademarked Patrick Kelly pattern.  The “More Love” collection of winter of 1988 is wonderful because he dedicated it solely to a love theme.  All the symbols so frequently associated to love, especially around Valentine’s Day (such as a heart, the color red, kiss prints, and roses), were often subtly worked into almost every collection.  However, this post’s dress unabashedly embraces the theme with no distractions.  It was convenient that the “More Love” collection came on the heels of two “Salute to the Heart Strings” AIDS awareness charity events in July (at Atlanta, Georgia) and then in October of 1988 (at the Louvre).  Patrick Kelly recycled some of the same designs he produced for those two AIDS charity shows to use in his “More Love” collection for the runways of Paris because he saw love as being just that – unconditional and non-judgmental.  My pattern’s original dress design can be spotted in a classic black and red combo on the woman at the far left (partial collection seen in picture at right).

     I normally gravitate towards softer colors for Valentine’s Day and avoid a bold red unless it is Christmas or I am wearing an Agent Peggy Carter outfit.  Therefore, as much as I did want to make a version of that was identical to the model, I also wanted to stay true to myself…and that is the best way to show love to yourself!  When I found this soft pinkish cable knit, it just instantly struck me as being “the right one” for my heart bustier Patrick Kelly pattern.  Using this modern novelty knit is meant to be a reference to 1985 to 1986 when he freelanced under the Italian brand “Touche” in conjunction with another of my top favorite designers – Enrico Coveri. He also specialized in knitwear couture that had a quirky spirit of fun.  (I posted here about his life when I sewed a suit set using some Alta Moda Coveri wool)  Kelly and Coveri had a similar exuberant approach to both life and fashion.  Both men died in the year 1990 at a young age (their mid-30s) from AIDS.  Kelly’s preliminary collection of 1984 was a reworking of designer Kenzo pieces while Coveri had been dubbed the “Italian Kenzo” since his pioneer collection, circa 1979.  Both also used similar Italian fabric manufacturing firms to source the knitwear for their collections and both were branded for their clingy, body-hugging fashions, as well.  The two of them had a significant amount in common, more than I have room here to recount!  Coveri however favored pastels or Kelly’s use of primary colors so maybe the former’s influence won out more than I first realized.

     My dual designer reference is so niche that no one but me would ever know, but that is just how I like it.  This is the ultimate benefit to the fact that patterns with a famous designer source are made available to the public.  True fans behind designer sponsored patterns can geek out and help spread appreciation to that namesake.  However, even the casual sewist just looking for something different still renders a designer’s pattern successful.  However, designer patterns are the perfect opportunity for the casual sewist to inform oneself.  Maybe your next new favorite designer can have its beginning with merely being curious over the name on an envelope cover!

     This is a “party in the front, business in the back” kind of design looking at the line drawing only, but really is a dress that only comes to life on a body.  I love my swayed, curvy back more than I normally do in this dress.  It makes me love my curves!  A designer who can give a woman clothing that helps her love the skin she is in has to be a real winner.  At the same time as feeling smoking with confidence, I am also warm and cozy…what a wonderful combination for winter that is hard to find in ready-to-wear!  The neck band is petite and loose fitting so that it is much less confining than a turtleneck and not that noticeable.  The mock bustier makes the covered up neckline become interesting and sultry – not at all boring or unassertive.  I have so many ideas for making other versions of this pattern, such as Patrick Kelly’s classic button covered version as well as a summer-worthy bold color blocked version, but my first go at this pattern was a tame yet nonetheless rousing success.

     I found some slight quirks to the pattern’s fit along the way to completion.  The shoulder line was extended and generous, seemingly intended for substantial shoulder padding to fill in the shape from inside.  It was definitely channeling the classic 80s “power dressing” look with such strong shoulders.  I pared it down to suit both my taste and my smaller frame.  The sleeves also turned out very long in length, not just because of the extended shoulder line.  I needed to do a 2 ½ inch hem.  Then, somehow the bottom hemline ended up much shorter in the back than in the front.  I do not think it was entirely due to the give of the stretchy sweater knit.  I think the pattern does not account for a full sized booty!  I had to even out the hemline by trimming off the front, which was tricky to do as the knit is very soft and bouncy.  My choppy cutting job only made it more challenging to hem the dress for an even fall on my body.  Hand stitching the hemming – after many try-ons in between pinning up the length – took almost half the total time I spent making the entire dress.  So it goes in sewing…sometimes the process of doing the final finishing details can be so tedious!

     Other than these small tweaks to the shaping, the general fit was spot on and the assembly was fantastic.  The design was simple but also complex at the same time.  Sure, most of the dress looked pretty basic and straightforward and was for most of the time. Then, the front bustier midriff section turns into the most challenging part to the entire dress.  I had to take my time to do that section perfectly because it is the highlight of the dress, after all!  The curved seams – and one sharp point where the V of the bustier dips – when combined with my chosen stretchy, thick knit fabric made for a tricky situation.  However, there are also applied contrast bands which are tucked into the bustier seams.  The bands are shaped the same as the bustier, and double faced for a clean finish, but made the seams a total of four layers to sew.  I hand stitched the outer (loose) edges of the bustier bands down to the dress because I wanted the thread to be invisible.

     I hope you noticed that I used the “wrong” side of the fabric for the middle bustier section and its seam bands.  The underside of the fabric is smooth without the cable texture and was a great way to make the most out of the design while going with one solid color tone.  It subtly emphasizes the fact that the midriff is a whole separate section.  I don’t expect everyone to see the difference at first or even grasp what little thing I did to change that panel up.  Yet, I’m not complaining because I also enjoy the way the dress doesn’t scream about the care and attention put into it.  I’m seeing it as my own designer’s secret (because yes, everyone who makes their own clothes is their own designer, I believe.)  I love the way a great garment can have a complexity which keeps getting better the more you look at it.  This is one of the things I love about couture, and wanted to emulate here in some small degree.

     No true Patrick Kelly garment, even if homemade, would be complete without his favorite button pins.  As Kelly considered 3 to be his lucky number, I went with that many buttons pins.  These are not true originals, but merely buttons from my local fabric store that I hot glued pin backs onto.  True vintage Patrick Kelly buttons that have his logo on them can go for a spectacular selling price. 

The big round red button is closest to his “classic” button pin look, where there are four holes that have black thread sewn in an X across the middle.  The other two buttons of a heart and of red lips are a direct reference to the “More Love” collection, which was rife with all the common visual symbols related to love.  Lip buttons, lip shoe clips, and even a lip shaped hat all can be found in his collections from the last two years of his career, but the red heart was perhaps his dearest symbol.  A red heart (and his brand’s controversial logo) is on his grave in Paris, France along with the words “Nothing is Impossible”.  I added a giant red heart button to close up the back neckline of the dress so that there would permanently be a clear, classic Patrick Kelly symbol affixed to this dress. 

     Patrick Kelly’s incessant expressions of outward love were unique in the way he worked such efforts towards transforming hate into appreciation.  The main example of this is the way he projected stereotypical images and items of black American folklore in a way that tries to re-appropriate them into a celebration for heritage and tradition.  He made it as plainly obvious as he could that he was a black American designer in a culture that was painfully not yet fully accepting of that fact.  For as outgoing as he was, his friends said he was personally a very private person, so his use of outward representations for love (no matter if others did not see things his way) became his means of being vocal about his race, his family, his passions, his creativity, and his hopefulness for a better future.  It wasn’t just about crafting a brand for himself – it was about being unapologetically himself so he could spread to others the same welcoming, respectful, joyful connection with his people that he himself felt.  He wanted to help create a better reality that he did not yet see existing in the world.  To me, all this is what adds so much beauty to each of his designs.  The language of love comes in many different forms, and through Patrick Kelly it can be universally understood via fashion.  Let’s have a little “More Love” of a different kind this Valentine’s Day!