This week Rate the Dress goes from very literal trompe l’oeil ruffles, to a dress with an abstract pattern that becomes a textile Rorschach test: what do you see in the ripples and blobs?
How you rated last week’s dress really hinged on how you felt about the border print and the trompe l’oeil ruffle. Some of you really enjoyed the print, and thought it was inventive and witty. Others found it fussy, saccharine, and mismatched. And then there was a third segment who liked elements of the dress, but didn’t feel it pulled off the overall look.
This week’s Rate the Dress is an 1890s day dress that might have been worn by the daughter of last week’s dresses owner: it’s equally decadent, impractical, and inventive in its design and use of fabric.
Pingat was a top tier Parisian couturier in the 1890s: commanding prices and status comparable to the House of Worth. Whoever wore this dress had the money to invest in a garment that had every bell and whistle of 1897’s fashion whim. From quirky geometric skirt trim, to bolero effect bodices, full sleeves with extra eccentric epaulette overlays, pointed collars, and lace jabots, it has everything and the fashion kitchen sink.
Not even the skirt fabric gives your eye a place to rest: it features a fashionable weave, probably Japanese inspired, with a cloud pattern in shades that change from pastel to grey and gold, depending on the angle and distance you view it from.
What do you think of this frock. Is it fashion forward, or simply ascribing to all the fashion fads, and not in a good way?
Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10
A reminder about rating — feel free to be critical if you don’t like a thing, but make sure that your comments aren’t actually insulting to those who do like a garment. Phrase criticism as your opinion, rather than a flat fact. Our different tastes are what make Rate the Dress so interesting. It’s no fun when a comment implies that anyone who doesn’t agree with it, or who would wear a garment, is totally lacking in taste.
(as usual, nothing more complicated than a .5. I also hugely appreciate it if you only do one rating, and set it on a line at the very end of your com
If I did a 2018 sewing round up, or set myself sewing goals for 2019, I don’t remember it, and can’t find it. So 2019 was a blank slate: I got done what I got done. And that’s kind of nice.
I’ve been trying to be less demanding of myself. I wish I could do all the things, all the time, and I tend to beat myself up mentally when I can’t. So for the last few years I’ve been trying to just be happy with what I do, and I think I’m getting there!
And I did do pretty well! Three Scroop patterns out, including the incredible hydra of a pattern that is the Augusta Stays (seriously, the amount of stuff we included in that pattern…it’s really four patterns, and was certainly the work of four standard patterns). A bunch of wardrobe sewing for me, a bunch of sewing for my mum (I packed more clothes for her than for myself in my recent trip home!).
And actually quite a lot of historical sewing as well, which, with a bit of “OK, I finished that challenge really late” means I completed my seventh full Historical Sew Monthly (actually, the first two were fortnightly, so that’s even more insane!).
So here’s my historical sewing roundup for 2019, as told through the Historical Sew Monthly challenges:
January: Dressed to the Nines:
“Make something fancy so you’ll be ‘dressed to the nines’ — whether its the full outfit, or a little accessory. Or look at the challenge in a different way, and make something from a year ending in 9 (find a portrait or fashion plate or mention to support the date), or even an item with 9 major design elements (9 buttons down the front, 9 tucks in a petticoat etc)”
“Make something out of linen, or that falls under the older definition of linens: ie: underclothes (lingerie literally means linen)”
I stretched the definition of the challenge just ]a little bit, and made 1760s stays – they are an undergarment, but weren’t always technically considered linens. I also used theatrical instead of historical construction techniques, so it was a very soft entry. But they do give me a lovely silhouette!
March:Sewing Kit:
“Create an item that makes use of your favourite sewing tool, instrument, or gadget; or an item made for your historical sewing kit (huswif, pinball)”
I’m going to count my historical Augusta Stays for this, because they used almost every tool in my sewing kit, literally and mentally! Thimbles, awls, brushes for buckram, sewing wax, needles, different types of thread, bone snips, sandpaper. Plus patternmaking, grading, digital everything…
I didn’t finish them in March, but I certainly worked on them solidly for the whole month!
April:Upping your game:
“Make something that really stretches you and that works on the bits that you tend to rush through or skimp on.”
My 1790s jumps lift me up and definitely lift my late 18th century costuming game!
May: Florals:
“Create an item that features flowers in some way.”
Strawberrys Scarlet Strawberrys, Francis Wheatley, 1792-95
September: Everyday:
“It’s not all special occasion frocks. Make something that would have been worn or used for everyday.”
This kerchief is so simple I haven’t blogged it, but it’s a fun item, which makes me very happy, and instantly turns an everyday outfit from the late 18thc or early 19thc from boring to fun.
October: Details:
“Sometimes the little things really make something fabulous. Focus on the details of your garment, to create something that just gets better the closer you look.”
Another thing I haven’t managed to blog yet, but I (finally) finished an early 18th c shift I started back in 2017. It’s a simple thing, but all the details elevate it: whipped gathers, hand worked buttonholes, flat felled seams. A very useful addition to my historical wardrobe.
November: Above the Belt:
“No hitting low! Let’s keep things on the up and up as the year closes, and make something worn above the belt.”
With guidance from Nina, I also made Medieval pins, perfect for holding my veil in place over my wimple.
December: On a Shoestring:
“It’s an expensive time of year, so make an item on a tight budget (say, under $15, or less than you’d spend on a reasonable priced takeaway meal for one person in your country — and no ‘stash’ doesn’t count as free: you still have to count what you would have originally paid for those items).”
I made a wimple. It’s just a rectangle of hemmed linen, but it’s a nice addition to my 14thc wardrobe. And, at $11 for 1/2 a meter of linen that I got on sale for $22pm, it qualifies nicely for the challenge, even if something spectacular that I managed to
This one I haven’t even photographed, because as soon as I finished it I either put it somewhere ‘safe’ or lent it to a friend to copy!
And that’s all folks!
Except for these:
Theatrical Augusta Stays. Not quite historical, but they give a historical silhouette. And they’re so pretty….
And my Regency Captain Janeway diadem and ‘kashmiri’ shawl.
Last week’s Rate the Dress was an evening dress for an event that didn’t usually call for evening wear. This week’s Rate the Dress is a morning dress for…well, presumably exactly what a morning dress was usually worn for.
Last Week: a 1920s evening-dress as wedding-dress
Last week’s wedding dress may have been a very unconventional choice, but it was a successful one! Almost everyone loved it, with the few slightly lower scores (it’s a good dress when 8 is the low score!) coming from people who just don’t like the 20s, and couldn’t quite get behind the corsage.
The Total: 9.6 out of 10
Resounding approval for the brides pick!
This week: a first-bustle-era morning dress in border-print cotton
This week I present an 1870s morning dress in a striking border-print cotton with trompe l’oeil ruffle effect.
In the 1870s a morning (not to be confused with mourning!) dress was an informal dress, usually made in less dressy fabrics, such as cotton. A morning dress was worn at home in the earlier part of the day, before changing for the more formal events of the afternoon, such as visiting, attending events, or shopping.
Morning dresses were less deshabille than dressing gowns (also worn in the morning) and were considered tidy and formal enough for women to receive visitors who showed up before the prescribed visiting hours (even unknown visitors of the opposite gender) in.
For less well-off women, who had to do their own tidying and chores in the morning, morning dresses were meant to be practical affairs: simple frocks in washable cotton with small prints on darker grounds, which would hide small marks and stains.
This morning dress clearly came from the wardrobe of a woman of leisure, with maids to press all her ruffles, and a to-do list totally devoid of anything likely to stain or spot her, unless it was a cup of tea or ink from her morning correspondence.
Note that it’s been painstakingly pieced along the bottom edge of the overskirt, and on the back ‘sash’ pieces, to provide a simpler border with only the trompe l’oeil ruffle.
The Metropolitan Museum of Art seems to have gone very light on the pressing and de-creasing aspects of this dress, possibly because the fabric appears to be a polished cotton, which creases easily and doesn’t always react so well to un-creasing methods (especially after 130 years).
As always, please don’t rate the dress on the museum’s presentation.
What do you think? Would you bounce out of bed at the thought of wearing this? Or are you not-a-morning-person when it comes to this dress?
Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10
A reminder about rating — feel free to be critical if you don’t like a thing, but make sure that your comments aren’t actually insulting to those who do like a garment. Phrase criticism as your opinion, rather than a flat fact. Our different tastes are what make Rate the Dress so interesting. It’s no fun when a comment implies that anyone who doesn’t agree with it, or who would wear a garment, is totally lacking in taste.
(as usual, nothing more complicated than a .5. I also hugely appreciate it if you only do one rating, and set it on a line at the very end of your com
