Latest Posts

Rate the Dress: Scarlet Suit-ed

Last week’s Rate the Dress was very Southern California summer: perfect for sunsets on the beach and glam parties in the dawning years of Hollywood.

This week’s pick is much more Wellington winter: just what you need for keeping cosy while going to an Edwardian soiree where you want to be sure you’re dressed better than that upstart Annie Beauchamp.

Last Week: 1920s dress in complementary velvet hues

Orange is having a moment, and that may have helped with the response to last week’s sunset hued number – or perhaps it was just that the luscious velvet was irresistible. When the dress did come in for criticism it was mostly for the belt: the braiding did not age well, and many of you thought it was clunky, heavy, and looked like a last-minute addition.

Interestingly, I thought the belt, while it clearly had suffered the effects of age, was what ‘made’ the dress, and the beading was the pointless afterthought! It takes all opinions!

The Total: 8.5 out of 10

That may be the best rating we’ve ever had for something orange!

This week: a 1900s suit in ruby red wool

This week’s Rate the Dress is rather like last weeks: a bold splash of colour on a style of garment that was usually more restrained.

Late Victorian and Edwardian suits usually came in dark practical hues. Browns, greys, dark blues, or heathered or tweed-y hues were the norm. The wearer of this suit, in contrast, decided to throw restraint to the wind, and opted for a striking, deep scarlet. She would certainly have been visible and noteworthy coming down the street!

Suit, Frances & Co., Paris (French), 1902, French, wool, silk,
Gift of Miss Frances M. Dickenson, 1955, Metropolitan Museum of Art, C.I.55.65a—c

Frances & Co was a high end tailor, and anything with a Paris label carried a certain cachet in 1902. It’s almost certain that the customer who ordered this suit was a woman of significant means, who could splash out on a statement garment, knowing that she’d be able to buy a new one next season, and not be perpetually marked as the woman who wore a red suit.

How do you like this suit, which marries a bit of Edwardian frill, in the form of the neck bow and slightly flared skirt, with the sleek silhouette typical of suits at the time, and a vivid colour that speaks to a wearer unafraid to flaunt convention or practicality?

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 comment, so I can find it!  And 0 is not on a scale of 1 to 10.  Thanks in advance!)

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

Very green, blue with bugs and birds 18th century inspired pockets

You know what I have never managed to make for myself as a historical costumer, despite how quick they are? 18th century pockets!

I’ve made them as demonstration pieces as a teacher, for clients (no, I no longer sew for clients), and, in non-accurate versions, for my mother, who likes to use them as portable farm pockets. But I’ve never made them just for me!

For Costume College this year Amber of Virgil’s Fine Goods, Cait of Willoughby & Rose & I decided to go as 1780s fruit vendors, a la Strawberries Scarlet Strawberries from Wheatley’s Cries of London.

Since my basket would be full of fruit, I needed someplace to hold all my personal stuff: lip balms and room keys. Standard Georgian street vendor belongings – you know.

Time for pockets.

I went through my stash for pocket inspiration. I was hoping I had some appropriate chintz or 18th c-esque printed cotton (this pair from the MFA Boston is still my ultimate pocket love), but alas, the stash did not supply.

Someday I’ll make a lovely embroidered pockets, but these ones needed to be relatively fast.

So what could the stash supply?

How about something very eco friendly? Perfect for putting some of the values that we’re working on spreading through Costumers for Climate Action to play.

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

I’ve had this curtain remnant for so long I can’t remember where it came from. Nana possibly?

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

It’s definitely been well used and loved. There are faded sections, and small stains.

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

But it’s awfully cute: birds and insects and little caterpillar worms! There was enough in reasonable condition left that I could cut two pockets – and the remaining scraps could become cleaning cloths.

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

I based the pattern off of the diagram in Patterns of Fashion.

Because these aren’t intended to be historically accurate pockets, I machine sewed them, and bound them with bias tape. The bias tape also vintage and probably inherited from Nana. Like the fabric, it wasn’t in the best condition, and had some age marks.

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

Based on the pockets I’ve made for clients and as demonstrations, I’ve decided I prefer pockets that are sewn to a waist tape, rather than ones that have a channel that you thread the waist tape on to. That way they stay exactly where you want them to with wear, and have less bulk around the waist.

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

The cotton sewing tape I used is an op shop find. There was an entire basket of 2m lengths of tape, each individually bundled up with a rubber band (insert ‘are you kidding me’ hand-to-face emoji here) at an op shop. They were 20c apiece, so I bought the whole basket full. Apparently they made some poor volunteer cut up a whole roll and bundle it, because they didn’t think anyone would buy the whole roll. All that, for 20c apiece…

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

I took them home, removed all the rubber bands, and dropped the resulting 40+ bands at another op shop which sells its fabric bundled up with rubber bands. They were grateful for the donation, and I’ve been working my way through the cotton sewing tape every time I need a length under 2m.

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

The tape is only 1.5cm/ 5/8″ wide, so I sewed it to the back side of the top edge of the pockets, and then cut another short length just a bit longer than the top of the pocket to cover raw edges from the top side.

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

So, my pockets are made from recycled fabric, and old, less-than-perfect bias binding, with op-shop sewing tape.

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

But best of all, despite being not at all historically accurate, these pockets aren’t just a throwaway prop costume. When I replace them with ‘proper’ pockets, they will go to my mother, for use around the farm.

When I wear them they are full of business cards, lip balm, extra hairpins, keys and a cell phone. One day they will be full of bits of twine, macadamia nuts, pairs of clippers, seed packets, and any miscellaneous cherry tomatoes, green beans and small fruits my mum finds on her work around the farm.

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

Ironically, I still haven’t really made pockets for me, because a group of lovely friends showed up for my annual not-on-my-birthday ‘birthday’ party, where I ask people to sew for me instead of giving my gifts (best present ever!), and much of the construction of these was completed by helper friends.

They even did lovely finish-y things like folding and hemming the ends of the tape.

So, these are my very green pockets, made from recycled fabrics, having a second life with me, before they have a third life on the farm, and representing all the friendship and love in my life.

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com

I love everything about them!

Plus, they were modelled by Felicity, so what could be better than that!

An 18th century re-use pocket thedreamstress.com
Robe de Style, Sadie Nemser, 1920's. Tangerine silk velvet, beaded hem, Whitaker Auctions

Rate the Dress: 20s velvet

Sorry all, jet-lag has done a number on me this week, and I’m very behind with Rate the Dress. So this week’s Rate the Dress will be a quickie: you’ll only have until the usual day to leave a comment. Hopefully you’re able to make up your mind quickly!

Last [last] Week:  a late 1770s dress with fascinating fabrications

Last week’s Rate the Dress was another one of those ones where people either really liked it, or really didn’t. The lovers thought it beautiful and unusual, and the loathers thought it overly fussy, with dull colours.

The Total: 8 out of 10

Nice but not amazing

This week:  a 1920s dress in complementary velvet hues

Today’s Rate the Dress is less ornamented than last week’s, but while this 1920s robe de style does have a simple silhouette, it’s not devoid of decoration, with a braided sash and beaded hem.

Robe de Style, Sadie Nemser, 1920’s. Tangerine silk velvet, beaded hem, Whitaker Auctions

Robe de styles were the alternative to the very straight, sleek 20s silhouette, with fuller skirts, and a softer, more romantic style. At their most most extreme, robe de style had very full skirts, with extra fabric at the sides so they could be worn over 18th century inspired paniers. They were frequently quite ruffly and pastel-y.

Robe de Style, Sadie Nemser, 1920's. Tangerine silk velvet, beaded hem, Whitaker Auctions
Robe de Style, Sadie Nemser, 1920’s. Tangerine silk velvet, beaded hem, Whitaker Auctions

Like many dress styles, there is no firm line between what was a robe de style, and what was a standard 20s dress. This example, with its moderately full skirt, simple neckline, and vivid, modern colours, straddles the line. Only the full skirt pushes it into robe de style territory.

Robe de Style, Sadie Nemser, 1920’s. Tangerine silk velvet, beaded hem, Whitaker Auctions

One can imagine a dress like this being worn by a woman who liked the shapes of robe de styles, but the more assertive colours and trims used.

Robe de Style, Sadie Nemser, 1920's. Tangerine silk velvet, beaded hem, Whitaker Auctions
Robe de Style, Sadie Nemser, 1920’s. Tangerine silk velvet, beaded hem, Whitaker Auctions

There is something quite artistic about the use of the complementary hues, and while the shape is simple, and the braided sash looks quite easy to do, the rather unexpectedly delicate beading around the hem speaks of the time, expense, and quality of the dressmaking.

Robe de Style, Sadie Nemser, 1920's. Tangerine silk velvet, beaded hem, Whitaker Auctions
Robe de Style, Sadie Nemser, 1920’s. Tangerine silk velvet, beaded hem, Whitaker Auctions

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 comment, so I can find it!  And 0 is not on a scale of 1 to 10.  Thanks in advance!)