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A nautical playsuit

Remember the darling little halter-neck playsuit from last week?

Well, when I sent the toile for it to S. she noticed how much it looked like a sailor suit in white, and liked it so much that she asked me to make her a second playsuit, this one with a nautical theme.

I suggested mixing things up a bit, and using a different bodice for the top half of the playsuit, specifically this little cutie from my pattern collection:

1930s nautical sailor dress

We settled on blue fabric with a detachable white collar with red trim, and cute blue buttons with ‘X’es on them that remind me of compasses.

Buttons (and my lovely blind-hem-stitched seam)

The bodice top married to the shorts from the original playsuit well, all I had to do was adjust for a back fastening rather than a side fasteningso that she could get in and out of it.

To play-up the nautical inspiration I added little white piping at the front pleats.

Like the floral playsuit, this one has a skirt to button over it.  I made this skirt a little wider, to give it more flow and a point of difference from the yellow skirt.

 And, like the yellow playsuit, it’s almost as pretty on the inside as on the outside, with French seams and hand-sewn bias-bound neck and sleeve edges

And, as a final touch, as I was getting fabric for another commission I walked past the Army Surplus store and noticed cute little sailor caps in the window, and of course I had to get one for S., as she was just such a lovely client to work with.  I put a button and  a bit of the trim from the collar on it.

And I’m sure you think this is all very lovely and cute, but you really wish you could actually see it on S..  Am I right?

Well, yes you can!

Doesn’t she look fabulous?  And don’t you want those shoes?

And, as a special bonus, here are photos of S. in the yellow playsuit!  (I’ve also added these to the original playsuit post, just to make them easy to find and covet later 😉 )

I want these shoes so much

American Duchess has just launched her first 20th century shoe: pre-orders are open for the Astoria 1900-1915 Edwardian Shoe.  I’m very much in impressed and want one in each colour!  Clearly I need to talk to Mr D about an extravagant early/late Valentines present.

As much as I adore the Astoria’s, these lovelies were my first Edwardian shoe love, the first early-20th century shoe to have me plastered to the computer screen saying “OOooooh…want…now!”:

Shoes, 1900-1905, American (Boston), MFA Boston, 1971.188

Aren’t they gorgeous? Aren’t they swoon worthy?  Don’t you just want a pair in dye-able silk that you can add your own sequins and diamantes to and tie with any color bow?

American Duchess, please add them to your to-do list!

Terminology: The So-Called ‘Viking’ Apron Dress

For my first guest writer for the terminology series, I’m very excited to introduce Cathy Raymond, of Loose Threads: Yet Another Costuming Blog.

Cathy’s Medieval and earlier focused blog is one of my favourite textile reads because her area of research is well outside my usual scope, meaning that I learn something new with every post. At the same time, her writing is so thoughtful and considered that it makes me continually realise how timeless and universal textiles are, and how relevant the way we think about the scraps of fabric found in Viking burials (for example) is to the way we think about fashion and textile design today.  So without further ado, Cathy:

Hello! I’m Cathy Raymond. The Dreamstress has asked me to contribute a guest post about an item of costume terminology characteristic of my preferred area of costume research, namely, the Migration Period and that part of the early Middle Ages often called the “Viking Age”. Unfortunately, as one delves back into what is known about costume in these periods, it quickly becomes clear that we seldom know what the original garments looked like, let alone what the people who wore them called them. A good way to illustrate the types of problems that arise is to discuss a favorite subject of mine: the so-called “Viking” apron dress.

Typical SCA style apron dress, based upon the Hedeby find

Most members of the SCA (“Society for Creative Anachronism”), and most fanciers of historic costume who surf the Internet have heard the term “apron dress” and have a vague notion that “Viking” women wore them. Leaving aside issues about the correctness of referring to the inhabitants of what is now Sweden, Denmark, and Norway during the ninth and tenth centuries C.E. collectively as “Vikings”, there are two big problems with the idea of the Viking apron dress: 1) We don’t know what the garment looked like, and 2) we don’t know what the women who wore it called it.

To explain how we even know there is such a thing as an “apron dress” at all, let alone how we ended up with this term and the other terms used for it by modern historians, researchers, and reenactors, it’s necessary to describe a little bit about our sources of information about the garments themselves.

Virtually all of the surviving textile remains from the Viking period in Scandinavia come from the ground, particularly from graves. Because burial is tough on cloth under most soil conditions, most surviving textiles are very small, from the size of a fingernail to the size of a postage stamp, and many of the larger surviving pieces are ambiguous in shape and as to their original purpose.

A fabric loop from the Pskov apron dress find in Russia. From Kies's webpage. Scale in centimeters

One feature of Viking women’s graves that has helped greatly with the reconstruction of their costume is the fact that they were typically buried with lots of metal jewelry, most of which was made of bronze. Metal salts from bronze objects, given the right soil conditions, may replace the actual fibers of a textile, creating an object called a pseudomorph that preserves the form of the original textile so completely that the attributes of the individual fibers can be measured.

The underside of a bronze brooch with strap remnants and pleated shift remnants from one of the Birka graves; from Geijer in Cloth & Clothing...

As a result, many of the textiles found in Scandinavia were preserved on and about the bronze jewelry and tools with which women of the Viking period are buried. A common feature of Scandinavian women’s graves of the period are large, bronze brooches often referred to in English as “tortoise brooches”. Those brooches often contain remains of narrow fabric strips or loops, each of which was made by folding a narrow piece of cloth in three places and sewing the outside two folds together, creating a strap about 1 cm wide. Sometimes, other types of fabric scraps survive near tortoise brooches and their loops, and it is entirely from these finds that the existence of the Viking era overdress has been deduced, as well as from the fact that fabrics other than the loops themselves are found, both clinging to the brooches and in other sections of the graves. The accompanying photographs are reconstructions I have made based on different theories of the overdress construction and different archaeological textile finds, the details of which are beyond the scope of today’s post.

Finnish president Tarja Halonen in a reproduction based on textile and jewelry finds in a grave at Eura, Finland, dated to approximately 1000 C.E

So where did this overgarment with loops come from? The best guess we have, right now, is that it is the descendant of an earlier garment, called a peplos, that was worn by the ancient Greeks and Romans. Peploses were worn later in time in many northern European areas, such as in Anglo-Saxon England, and evidence that a similar garment was still being worn around the year 1,000 C.E. was found in a grave in Eura, Finland. The earliest peploses appear to have simply been a large sheet of fabric folded around the body and pinned at the top edge with a pair of a type of long brooch called a fibula. The top edge could be folded down before the pins went in, or not. By the time of the Romans, these dresses had become voluminous and had straps at the top, though they do not seem to have been worn with brooches. These voluminous drapey overdresses were worn by married women as a sign of their marital status and called (confusingly, for English speakers) stola.

That gets us back to terminology.

The archaeologists who have analyzed the grave finds and told the world about the loops inside the brooches also used descriptive terms for the garment they believed it denoted. They wrote in German, or Swedish, or Norwegian, or Danish, and invented terms languages to try to capture their image of what the actual dress must have looked like. Agnes Geijer, who was Swedish but wrote about the Birka finds in German, called the garment a hängerock, a German word which has been translated into English as “hanging skirt”. More recently, Swedish researchers have used the Swedish word hängselkjol for the garment. The word träggerock, which I’m told is German for “strap skirt,” has also been used. British reenactors have called it a pinafore, a term for a modern overdress of similar shape. Russian researchers refer to it as a sarafan, even though the Russian sarafan is a much later period garment, and Russian women (other, perhaps, than those influenced by Scandinavian culture) did not wear an overdress that was even remotely like the “apron dress” during the Viking Age.

Geijer's proposed paired apron dresses, based upon a Birka find

So far as I know, the American term for the garment, “apron dress”, was devised by Carolyn Priest-Dorman in the early 1990s, and because it was featured in an SCA publication (Compleat Anachronist # 59, which is still worthwhile reading for a novice to the issues relating to Viking era costume, though it needs an update in light of more recent research), and it is in common use among Viking enthusiasts in the SCA. But “apron dress”, like all the other terms for the Viking era overdress worn by women in Scandinavia, is a modern invention, functioning to allow modern scholars and reenactors to discuss that overdress (including theories of its form and construction) with a minimum of circumlocution.

Wraparound apron dress, alternative reconstruction for multiple loop finds.

Finally, British researcher Thor Ewing thinks he has ascertained what the Viking women actually called the “apron dress”. He believes it was called smokkr, based on his reading of the Viking poem Rígsþula. The relevant passage reads, in the original Old Norse:

Sat þar kona/sveigði rokk,
breiddi faðm/bio til vaðar;
sveigr var a hofði/smokkr var a bringu,
dúkr var a halsi/dvergar a oxlum.

This passage is usually translated along these general lines:

The woman sat/and the distaff wielded;
At the weaving with arms/outstretched she worked;
On her head was a band/on her breast a smock;
On her shoulders a kerchief/with clasps there was.

Ewing believes that “smokkr” does not mean “smock”, as the word has usually been translated into English, but refers to the item that has been called “hängerock”, “pinafore” or “apron dress” because of the reference to clasps or “dvergar” (literally “dwarves”) on the woman’s shoulders. Ewing believes that the term “dwarves” refers to the big tortoise brooches worn to hold the overdress in place on the body. He believes that the proximity of the term “smokkr” to the term “dvergar” means that the “smokkr” was associated with the brooches, which would mean that the “smokkr” could only be the garment held up by those brooches–i.e., the apron dress. Moreover, Ewing believes that the term “smokkr”, which derives from an old Norse word meaning “to creep through” indicates that the apron dress could not be a wraparound garment:

The word smokkr could not be easily applied to an open garment which is wrapped around the body, as in the reconstructions envisaged by Geijer and Bau. It is worth noting that the English word ‘smock’ typically describes a longish garment of cotton or linen, which is put on over the head and often includes a pleated section on the breast. (Viking Clothing, p. 39).

I’d like to believe that Ewing is right and the Viking women did call the garment smokkr, because the idea that the Rígsþula contains evidence for how the apron dress was constructed is attractive to me. There is evidence that at least some apron dresses had a pleated section in the front. But although Ewing’s reading of Rígsþula is persuasive, it’s not conclusive; for a start, we do not know that the word “smokkr” was only applied to the apron dress. It’s also possible that the “open garment envisaged by Geijer and Bau” is a more recent version of the garment that nonetheless kept an old name that no longer correctly described it. In the meantime, it seems likely that the use of a variety of non-period, vaguely descriptive terms for the Viking era overdress will continue into the indefinite future.

Pleated front closed tube apron dress, based on a Danish find


Ewing, Thor. Viking Clothing. Tempus Publishing Ltd. (2006).

Geijer, Agnes. “The Textile Finds From Birka,” in Cloth and Clothing in Medieval Europe, pp. 80-99. Heinemann Educational Books Ltd. (1983).

Good, Irene. Archaeological Textiles: A Review of Current Research, Annual Review of Anthropology, vol. 30, pp. 209-226 (2001).

Kies, Lisa. “Fabric Treasure.” Lisa Kies’s English translation of a short writeup of a fabric find in Pskov, Russia, with tortoise brooches and photographs.

Kies, Lisa. “Women’s Clothing in Kievan Rus

Krupp, Christina & Priest-Dorman, Carolyn.Women’s Garb in Northern Europe, 450-1000 C.E.: Frisians, Angles, Franks, Balts, Vikings and Finns(Compleat Anachronist #59). Society for Creative Anachronism (1992).

Lewins, Shelagh. “A Viking Pinafore

McManus, Barbara. “Roman Clothing: Women

Owen-Crocker, Gale R. Dress in Anglo-Saxon England. Boydell & Brewer, Ltd. (rev. ed. 2004).

The text of “Rígsþula” can be found in many places on the Internet, but this site includes the original text with a modern English translation, side by side (the portion in which the “smokkr” text appears is cited).