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Rate the dress: married in purple poppies in the 1880s

Last week I showed a 1910s dress featuring draping in robin’s egg blue brocade and white lace.  Some of you loved it, only one of you hated it, and most of you found the fabric divine, but felt that the fabric handling was just a bit beyond the skill of the dressmaker, and the whole effect left the dress feeling unresolved and quite provincial.

It came in at a 6.9 out of 10, which is basically the Rate the Dress equivalent of saying “Well, good on you for trying”.  (and also, someone noticed that the skirt slit means it should  be added to the infamous Rate the Dress gallery of ‘dresses-that-look-disturbingly-anatomical-from-certain-angles (and ones by Charles James that look purposefully and unabashedly anatomical from all angles)’ )

This week I present another dress that features asymmetrical  skirt  draping, though this wedding dress, from an era when white was slightly less ubiquitous as a bridal colour, executes them in perfectly matched aubergine satin and damask, with taffeta ribbons and dark lace in complementary hues, rather than contrasting brocading and lace.

The dress is typical of the mid 1880s, with rich, dark colours, lush fabrics, and a mix of structure, asymmetry, and elaborate fabric manipulation, including shirring and ruffles.

A (sadly rather poor quality) detail image reveals that there is actually lace tucked into the drapes and bustling of the skirt, but it has been dyed a dark shade to harmonise with the main garment fabrics.

What do you think?  Was the creator of this dress a better fabric manipulator than last weeks?  Does the single colour scheme bring together the disparate design elements of the skirt and bodice?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

Early 1920s Fringe & Poppies ensemble thedreamstress.com

The 1921 Fringe (yes, fringe!) and Poppies ensemble

It is a pretty well known fact to readers of this blog that I dislike fringe.  Dislike may be putting it mildly.  I believe the word I usually use is loath.

My dislike of fringe stems primarily from all the terrible, awful, horrible ‘1920s’ ‘flapper’ dresses which owe everything to 2nd-half of the 20th century costume designers, and nothing to period originals.  To a lesser extent, I also dislike fringe because of the  fringing on some 1860s dresses, where the designers  seem to have gone “Woohoo!  Fabric is relatively cheap!  Fringe is relatively cheap!  Dresses are HUGE!  Let’s just throw acres of fringe at the hugeness!”

Blech.  Ergh.

But, for every rule, there are exceptions.  Vionnet’s famous 1938 scalloped fringed frock gets a pass for being fabulous and amazing.  Shawl fringe is generally attractive as long as it is sympathetic to the overall design of the shawl.  But I’ve never really been tempted to make a garment with fringed trim.

And then, while prepping for the Hamilton Garden’s Katherine Mansfield Garden Party, I came across this fashion plate:

The dress in the upper right!  The fringe!  The wide collar!  The matching shoes and stockings!

Before I noticed the fringed dress, I’d been drooling over the cherry dress in this fashion plate:

The Delineator, Fashions for July 1921

The Delineator, Fashions for July 1921

It’s really interesting to look at the slight but distinct changes in the fashions a year and a month later.  The thing I notice most is the change in body shape: in July 1921, all the models shown have distinct hips, and the waistline sits just above them.  By August 1922, the body shape is very straight, and the waistline has lowered just a bit, to sit fully on the hips.

The cherry dress is fabulous, but I’d make it with poppies, because all the bad ‘vintage’ inspired stuff with cherries has totally put me off it them, in the same way I’m quite off fringe.  I was still a little worried about twee factor, and I knew I didn’t have time to make it before the Garden Party.

But the fringed dress…  I might actually like it even MORE than the cherries!  And I’d actually have time to make it (or make the main parts, and do the embroidery later) in time for the Garden Party, and it could serve as a try-out for the pattern and ideas and construction.

And I even had the fringe!  I’d bought a roll  of vintage rayon fringe in a delicious red in a bulk lot of other stuff I wanted, and never got rid of it.

So, that was the idea.  And it kind-of worked like that.  And the finished dress looks pretty good:

Early 1920s Fringe & Poppies ensemble thedreamstress.com

But not everything went to plan, and I’m very glad this was just a trial dress.

My big mistake was having the ‘bright’ idea to make this in a fascinating silk with a mechanised stretch, simply because it is such a fascinating fabric, and I bought it specifically because it reminded me of 1920s & 30s silk & rayon knits.

Picking it this dress happened very, very late at night, which explains a lot.  My sleep-deprived brain  thought it would make it easy (because, stretch!), and didn’t really process through that it isn’t really an accurate fabric for this type of dress. It turns out it was NOT easy.  In fact, it was absolutely awful to work with:  dreadfully wibbly and unstable.

So my ‘tra-la-la,  I shall just whip this up!’ project took far, far longer than it ought to have, and the dress travelled to Hamilton with me with an unfinished belt and an untrimmed hat.

Luckily, a late-night creative burst produced some rather fun and credible tassels to finish off my belt.

Courtesy of Tony McKay Photography and Glory Days Magazine

Courtesy of Tony McKay Photography and Glory Days Magazine

And in the same burst, I ripped off the terrible 1980s bow from a hat, pleated round some black satin, and sewed on a bunch of poppies (because 1920s poppies hats….mmmm…)

Courtesy of Tony McKay Photography and Glory Days Magazine

Courtesy of Tony McKay Photography and Glory Days Magazine

With a pair of ’90s do ’20s red silk shoes that I remembered after the dress was mostly finished, but that happened to perfectly match, I had a credible ensemble.

Courtesy of Tony McKay Photography and Glory Days Magazine

Courtesy of Tony McKay Photography and Glory Days Magazine

It would be much better made in linen, to give it a bit more structure, and could definitely use better undergarments (especially since my slip kept peeping when I raised my arms, so I actually got a friend to hack off a few inches of it partway through the day).  And  I managed to get the fringe on the wrong side of the dress.

But, even so, I quite like it!  I’ve not changed my mind on fringe as a whole, but just this once, I’m a fan!  Someday there will be a 2.0 version of this dress.

Early 1920s Fringe & Poppies ensemble thedreamstress.com

Courtesy of Tony McKay Photography and Glory Days Magazine

Rate the Dress: Blue & silver brocaded satin, ca. 1914

Two weeks ago (we took a week off for me to Rate the Oscars) I showed a grass green gown from the 1860s.  The ratings were hugely clustered around “I really like this, but not quite enough to give it a 10, so here is an 8.5” or “This just seems a little meh to me – not terrible, but a 6”.  Quite a few people were surprised they liked it, which I always see as a huge triumph on the part of a dressmaker (as when Vionnet manages to make me like, nay love, a fringed dress!)  – it’s almost better than when you already liked X thing, so of course you like dress full of X thing.

The dress came in at 7.7 out of 10

This week we turn from the structured geometry if the 1860s, to the soft draping of the 1910s

This evening gown from the Minnesota Historical Society features robins egg blue satin, brocaded with metallic gold or silver threads in a meandering floral pattern, interspersed with blond lace.

The dressmaker has arranged the lace and brocaded satin in panels which wrap around the wearers body,  draping and pleating them, and tucking them under each other to create a sense of flow and movement.

The dress  is an excellent example of how regional dressmakers interpreted European styles for local clients who had  the opportunity and means to wear elaborate evening dress in lavish fabrics, but who chose to have their dresses made locally.

Despite the vivid colour, the dress is fairly conservative in cut,  and is relatively large in size, indicating it may have been made for  a more mature woman.

What do you think?  Do you like the balance of statement fabric and more restrained style?  Would the cut flatter a fuller figure?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

(and, of course, EVERYONE  is welcome to have a say, no matter what your historical knowledge and experience is, just make sure that your comments are courteous and don’t  attack any of the other commenters, or  cast aspersions on anyone who may feel differently than you about a dress.  “This dress reminds me of a squashed toad on the road” is fine.  “Anyone who would like this is an idiot” is not!).