The Dreamstress

Since very patterned fabric and trim was divisive last week, this week I’ve gone for a very plain fabric, with no trim whatsoevery. But it’s definitely not boring a boring dress: whatever else it might be, all in one colour and trimless as it is, it’s distinctive.

Last Week: an 1850s chine a la branche day dress

There was a decided fork in the ratings branch(e) when it came to judging last week’s chine crinoline. Either you liked the fabric, or you didn’t. And either you were sure the trim must have been symmetrical, or couldn’t forgive that it wasn’t.

The Total: 7.1 out of 10

Well, it’s an improvement on the week before – more jam with pips than vegemite in the universally appealing scale!

This week:  a 1920s day dress with ‘scale’ scallops

Since last week’s fabric was so divisive, and trim was so divisive, this week I present a dress that’s completely devoid of trim, and in a very simple, restful eu de nil silk chiffon.

The dresses main design feature is layered scallops, which create a fishscale effect running down the front of the dress, and around the hem. They emphasise the drop waist and vertical elements so characteristic of fashions of the era.

The high neckline and long sleeves are typical of day dresses of the 20s, but the sleeveless underdress, revealing arms and upper chest under sheer sleeves, add a hint of sass, and make this a more formal day dress. It would be suitable for wearing to the races, or to a wedding, paired, of course, with the perfect hat, rather than for a day of shopping.

It’s very Little Mermaid (quite appropriate this week), but in the straight lines of the 1920s.

What do you think? If you wanted to channel your inner Marina or Ariel in 1926, would this be your pick for oceanic elegance?

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!)

Thank you to everyone who comment on my post on climate change and mental health. I really appreciate your support, suggestions, and empathy. I’m still working through them, and allowing myself to do just a little bit every day to cope, and even though I haven’t managed to respond yet, I really appreciate that you took the time to comment.

One thing that does generally help me is having a schedule, so, although it’s a day late, here’s Rate the Dress.

Last Week:  an 1890s evening dress by Mrs Cuttle

Here in NZ things that people either really like, or really don’t like, are sometimes described as ‘the vegemite option’ (or, ‘the marmite option’, because using either immediately triggers a vehement argument about which is the better/true extremely weird tasting yeast spread).

Vegemite is either something you like, or…isn’t (unless you’re me, and you think it’s revolting as you eat it, and then immediately want another piece of vegemite toast)

Last week’s dress was vegemite. And, carrying on the analogy, only a few of you are from the few countries that like the stuff, because most of you DID NOT like the dress. But some loved it!

The Total: 6.4 out of 10

And Veronica was right on the money with her rating! (there is no award for that, because then everyone would start doing middle of the road ratings, and that would be terribly boring 😉 )

This week:  an 1850s afternoon dress in chine a la branch silk

This 1850s afternoon dress is made from a floral warp printed silk: chine a la branche silk, or, as it might have been called in the 1850s, pompadour silk.

The characteristic blurred effect of the weave softens the harsh contrast that the bright tones and dark ground of the fabric might have otherwise had, while the floral print keeps the dress from severity or sombreness.

The dress would have originally been worn with a white collar, and white engageantes (undersleeves) which would have further brightened it.

The blurred lines and irregular patterning of the print are matched and balanced by lines of trim which are both angularly geometric, and softened with gathers, adding to the overall aesthetic tension between crisp contrasts and muted borders.

Like last week’s dress, it’s suffering slightly from presentation. Sloping shoulders may have been the 1850s beauty ideal, but the lines around the neck and collapsed fabric at the side of the bust and around the armhole make it clear this was meant to be worn by someone shaped a little less like a wine-bottle.

Imagine in the right accessories and body, and what do you make of it? Does the pairing of fabric and cut work for you? Is this chine crinoline a win?

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!)