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Rate the Dress: 1840’s stripes, rosettes and hem ruffles

Look at me!  Three weeks of Rate the Dress in a row, AND an additional sewing post!  And wait till you see what this weeks non-RTD post is!

Last week’s Rate the Dress was lush and decorative, with elaborate fabric.  This week I’ve opted for a more restrained fabric pattern, although the dress still has some ruffles and fun.

Last week: a 1720s mantua in green

Was it a grand green gown?

The Total: 9.6 out of 10

Grand indeed!  That’s practically a perfect score!

This week: a striped 1840s dress.

This 1840s day dress is made from a wool gauze with a striking large-scale stripe pattern in blue and beige.  The stripes are used to striking effect on the bodice, with the bold pattern skilfully pleated in to the waist, with the dividing line of the colours running down the centre of the dress, but the same blue stripe balanced across the waist.

Day dress of wool gauze with silk pom poms, 1840s, Fashion Museum Bath

Day dress of wool gauze with silk rosettes, 1840s, Fashion Museum Bath

The division of the stripes is continued down the skirt with a line of bias-cut trim echoing the bias stripes of the sleeves.  Bold blue rosettes pick up the blue in the stripe, and a ruffled trim (possibly a later addition) matches the buff and protects the hem.

What do you think?  Is the dress clever, or cartoonish?

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.

Everyday Norse: making a historybounding version of Herjolfsnes 39

So, I was supposed to be going to Medeltisveckans on Gotland in Sweden this August.  But I’m not.  And that’s OK (well, the not going.  Not how it happened.  That wasn’t OK.  And I’m dealing with that).

But the good news is, I’m going to be doing something even better.  You’ll hear about that soon…

But, I spent 4 months planning for Medeltisveckans, which obviously means sewing!  Medieval sewing.

My big worry about Medeltisveckans is that by all accounts is usually hot.  So I needed to plan a capsule wardrobe of >1 suitcase worth of Medieval clothes that I wouldn’t overheat in, and that would be as light as possible (because, luggage allowances).

My solution?  My yellow 1370s dress, and one of the short sleeved dresses from the famous Herjolfsnes finds in wool, with the option to wear it with or without pin on sleeves and alone or over the yellow 1370s dress – so many different options, and the looseness of the Herjolfsnes dress would make it cool and breezy in the heat.

So, I patterned up Herjolfsnes 39 from Medieval Garments Reconstructed (it’s on page 58, and featured on the front cover)

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

I decided I’d make a wearable mock up in linen to test the pattern before cutting in to my precious, this-is-going-to-take-every-scrap wool.  I wouldn’t wear the linen dress as a historical garment, but it could make a fun everyday dress, for a different kind of historybounding.

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Because this is meant to be an everyday dress, I did it all by machine, including figuring out a fun way to do the inset godets by machine

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Here’s the dress at finished-except-sleeves point:

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

The pattern fit me extremely well exactly as I’d drafted it, except for the sleeves.  They were extremely weird.  Did not fit.  I can understand historical sleeves that don’t fit our modern standards of attractiveness, but these ones were just uncomfortable and did not provide a good range of movement.  Bulgy extra fabric in all the wrong places, and not enough in the right places.

The archeological notes on the dress say the woman who wore it may have had a hunch back, so perhaps that accounts for the sleeves.  Perhaps the drafter for the original garment was bad at it?  Perhaps they were installed badly at some point after their excavation?  I know at least one of the garments patterned in Medieval Garments Reconstructed has the sleeves put on backwards, possibly repeating a mistake that was made when the garments were ‘conserved’ and re-sewn in the mid-20th century.

Whatever the case, the sleeves required a total re-draft.  With help from Miss Fiss:

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

It took a few tries, but I got there!

I kept the original sleeve length for the linen dress, but I may cut them shorter for a more flattering look.  They do end at an odd length.

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

I just had time to get a couple of wears out of the dress before winter closed in in New Zealand, and I loved it.  So swishy!

Also, I added pockets.

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

I got tons of compliments too – who knew that marigold yellow linen sacks would be so popular!

It was so comfy I wore it for a walk in Zealandia.

Enjoy this ridiculous series of photos of me loosing my sunglasses:

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

(and apologies for the wet spot – braids just after washing your hair!)

And then enjoy some of the other pretties we saw in Zealandia that day:

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Herjolfsnes 39 Thedreamstress.com

Mantua, ca 1720, silk with metal lace, National Museum Norway, OK-dep-01160

Rate the Dress: 1720s green mantua

Thanks everyone for your support last week, and for showing that Rate the Dress was missed 💛  I didn’t manage a non Rate the Dress post last week, but at least I’m back with Rate the Dress!

This week’s we’re going back in time 200 years from last week to look at a mantua: a garment that started out as an informal alternative to fully boned bodices, and eventually evolved into the most iconic gown of the 18th century: the sacque.

Last week: a peachy pink 1920s dance frock

Well, you have have loved the return of Rate the Dress, but you weren’t so sure about the dress itself.  Some of you thought it was adorable, but some of you were very dubious about it, particularly about the gathered hip panels.

The gathered hip panels were actually my favourite part: they are such a ridiculous touch that is so typical of their era.  And I loved the dress, partly because it would have looked great on 18 year old me.  I was straight up and down – no curves at all to fight with the frills!

The Total: 7.6 out of 10

Not to everyone’s taste, but still a success.

This week: a 1720s mantua

If you’re a fan of early 18th century fashion, you’ll probably recognise this week’s Rate the Dress pick.  There are so few surviving examples of 1720s mantua that ‘the green one’ tells you everything you need to need to know to instantly identify it.  I generally try to avoid featuring very well known garments on Rate the Dress, but, when there are so few options for a decade, it would be a terrible pity not to feature a well photographed dress.

And this is a VERY well photographed dress.  You should definitely head over to the object listing at the National Museum of Norway to see a spinning 360 view, detailed photos of the petticoat (it’s lined in golden yellow! (although I’m not sure that’s original)) and stomacher, and best of all, inside views of the dress.  Be still my heart…

Of the full dress pictures, I particularly like that the museum shows us both the mantua with the skirts pinned up, and the mantua with the skirts down.  So fantastic if you’re trying to replicate a garment…

While the maker for this dress is unknown, we do know some things about the garment.  This type of brocaded silk, with its patterning that imitates lace, was a specialty of Lyons.  It definitely dates the dress to around 1720, as the fashion in brocaded silks moved from the bolder patterns of early ‘bizarre’ silks (read more about them here) to the more delicate designs that would characterise mid-18th century fabrics.

The delicate floral and lace design of the fabric is contrasted with the crisp pleating of that shapes the dress.

If this is like other mantua, the pleating is not just decorative, but fits the garment to the body with the absolute minimum of cutting to the fabric

What do you think?  Would a lady ca 1720 feel grand and gorgeous wearing this?

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.