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Rate the Dress: Regency daisy chain

Last week I showed you a full-steam-ahead 1870s dress, crammed with all the tassels, pleats, lacing and trimming it could possibly hold: right up to the parasol pocket. I guessed correctly that a lot of you would go totally gaga over it, and there was an impressive swathe of 10s. But a surprising amount of you held back and couldn’t quite commit to a full score, and so there were an equal number of 8 & 9s, and just a few who weren’t quite convinced, bringing the dress in at a still-impressive 9.2 out of 10.

Personally, I’m in the minority in feeling that there is something not quite resolved about that dress: a bit of imbalance in the colour arrangement that kept my eye stuck on one spot, and when I really pulled back and tried to look at the whole there were all these little tiny things that just niggled at me (and, like Cathy, I couldn’t dismiss the sneaking suspicion I would hate the front). It’s like a movie where the actors are so good and the characters so appealing that you love it when you see it, and only later do you realise that there were massive plot holes all over the place. I HATE that! It’s almost worse than a bad movie, because the letdown when you figure out the plot holes is even harder because you liked the characters…

But I digress!

Let’s stick with the theme of over-the-top embellishments this week, but move from the 1870s to the 1820s, and from tasselled fringing to three-dimensional puffs.

Evening dress, ca. 1820, American, cotton, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.2978a, b

This evening dress is in classic Regency white, with visual interest created through the use of whitework embroidery and gauzy three-dimensional daisies formed from puffs of delicate fabric.

Evening dress, ca. 1820, American, cotton, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.2978a, b

The daisies are arranged in rows at the hem of the skirt, and smaller versions decorate the bodice and small puffed sleeves.

Evening dress, ca. 1820, American, cotton, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.2978a, b

The daisy and embroidery decorations completely cover the detachable long sleeves of the dress, which made it suitable for a wider variety of occasions and weather. Sadly, only one of the long sleeves has survived, so we’ll just have to imagine what the dress looked like with both.

Evening dress, ca. 1820, American, cotton, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.2978a, b

The all white of the dress is a taken from the classical Greek & Roman inspired fashions of the earlier Regency, but the puffed sleeve decorations give the dress the slightest nod to the Renaissance, another popular source for dress designs in the 1810s-30s.

Evening dress, ca. 1820, American, cotton, Metropolitan Museum of Art, 2009.300.2978a, b

What do you think? You’ve been pretty lukewarm on all-white Regency frocks in the past, but does the superlative decorations on this one lift it out of the ordinary? And does the pale palette and delicate ornamentation keep it from being too heavy and fussy: the frequent criticism levelled against the 1820s. Or are the daisy chains just ridiculously twee?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.

The HSF/M 2015: Challenge #11: Silver Screen

Published by The Dreamstress

I know, I’m running dreadfully behind with this challenge! I’ve already posted my finished project, and I haven’t even done an inspiration post yet!

I’ve already mentioned that screen costumes don’t really inspire me, but there is one big exception to that: I LOVE screen costumes from pre-1945-ish.

I love the ones that were meant to represent historically periods (which they usually do with fabulous flair and utter disregard to accuracy), and I love the ones in contemporary costume. And most of all, I love the costumes where the designer just went mad and created something entirely random.

For inspiration, here are my 10 favourite period film costumes:

1. Greta Garbo in Mata Hari. As a designer, Adrian is definitely my favourite. He knew how to dress his actresses, and excelled at creating totally iconic costumes. When it comes to shear mad fabulosity, nobody can beat Adrian! I mean, look at this:

Greta Garbo in Mata Hari, costumes by Gilbert Adrian

2. Marlene Dietrich’s tuxedo from Morocco. ADORE!

Marlene Dietrich in a tuxedo for ‘Morocco’ (1930)

3. Madge Bellamy in 1920s does 1670s – for Lorna Doon, and then White Zombie (because there is nothing like a good bit of costume re-use.

Madge Bellamy as Lorna Doone in 1922

Madge Bellamy in ‘White Zombie’, inexplicably wearing a costume from Lorna Doon

5. Claudette Colbert in Cleopatra. How can you not love every single costume from this film! Hyper-sexy 1930s with Egyptian accessories – they may not be remotely accurate, but they fit the film’s Cleopatra perfectly. Literally and figuratively.

Claudette Colbert in a gown by Travis Banton for Cecil B deMille’s ‘Cleopatra’ 1934

6. Greta Garbo in Adrian (again) for A Woman of Affairs. Adrian’s decision to put Garbo in a trench coat (previously an exclusively male garment) only made her look even more gorgeous, and made trench coats fashionable for women (YAY!). Plus, the plaid lining? Tres chic!

Greta Garbo in Adrian in a Woman of Affairs (1928)

7. Joan Crawford in the famous revolving door dress from 1932’s Grand Hotel, because…well…this pretty much answers it all:

Joan Crawford in Grand Hotel (1932)

8. 1930s Riding Outfits. Cheating every so slightly, because I can’t find the actual image I want. Fay Wray wears a gorgeous riding ensemble in Mills of the Gods, but this is the best image I can find. So here is Madge Belamy in an equally cute riding outfit, but I don’t think she ever wore it onscreen:

Madge Bellamy, 1920s

9. Joan Crawford in the legendary white Letty Lynton gown by Adrian. This was the original film dress that launched a thousand copycats, but due to a copyright battle, the film was banned and the completely, fabulously, utterly, wonderfully ridiculous dress can only be seen in stills.

Joan in Adrian’s legendary Letty Lynton gown (1932)

10. And finally, while I have serious problems with the book and film, I still can’t help loving Vivien Leigh in the famous green picnic dress from Gone with the Wind:

Vivien Leigh in Walter Plunkett’s famous picnic dress for Gone WIth the Wind (1939)

A blouse for Marilla of Anne of Green Gables

Published by The Dreamstress

Here is a bit of a confession about the Historical Sew Fortnightly ‘Silver Screen’ challenge: film & TV costumes don’t do a lot for me. Or, more accurately, they don’t do a lot compared to extant garments. There are SO many original pieces that make my heart go pitter patter, but when I watch period dramas it’s very rare for me to love something and want to recreate it. Sometimes a film makes me love a period, and then I go looking for original pieces in that period, but there are only a few costumes I really want to recreate, and even then I suspect I’d tweak. I’m a tweaker!

Luckily tweaking is practically mandatory for the Silver Screen challenge, because we’re supposed to historically accuratise the costume we choose. And also luckily there is an onscreen costume that has always fascinated me, that I had fabric for (or close enough), and that fit perfectly into my sewing schedule.

My screen choice comes from everyone’s favourite non-BBC period miniseries: the 1980s Anne of Green Gables.

Nope. Not an Anne dress. I’ve always been fascinated by this blouse that Marilla wears:

Check out the stripe placement on the sleeves:

Nice!

It’s not exactly in-character for Marilla, because that bias placement uses every bit as much fabric as the puffed sleeves that she refuses to give Anne because they are so wasteful, but it’s very effective onscreen.

Marilla wears at least two versions of the blouse. A pale grey and white one when Anne first arrives:

And a lilac and purple one that shows up in a number of scenes, both as a ‘best’ shirt under a suit, and for everyday wear:

I think the blouse is just fabulous, and there are certainly plenty of examples of turn-of-the-century blouses in striped fabrics (as in this photograph with a friend of the Mansfield/Beauchamp family), though they tend to be more formal shirts, rather than gathered blouses. I’ve even seen the chevron sleeve placement, but only on formal garments in silk, so it’s more of a ‘historically possible’ in a cotton shirt, than a documented feature.

I used Wearing History’s Edwardian blouse pattern as the basis for my blouse, hacking it to add a yoke, and more fullness.

And I am pretty darn pleased with the end result!

I didn’t have an even stripe, and I couldn’t find a suitable fabric with a similar one, so I went for a wide and narrow stripe in blue and grey (and, to be perfectly honest, I think it’s even better than the original!).

To control the extra fullness, and to avoid bulk at the waist, I used the peplum piece from Wearing History’s Camisole pattern, cut the blouse short, and gathered it to it. Now my front gathers will always sit exactly as I want them to, with no extra bulk. This is a documented period technique, and has instantly become my favourite hack of the Edwardian blouse pattern.

The blouse has already featured in two photoshoots: on ‘Alice’ the maid at the Katherine Mansfield House Museum, and is modelled here by my friend Stella in Pukekura Park, New Plymouth. We know from Mansfield’s stories that Alice liked a bit of flair to her clothes, so she would have appreciated the sleeves on this. And Stella may be quite a bit younger and more fashionable than Marilla, but the Anne books mention borrowing patterns from neighbors (as poor Anne found out out to her dismay when she was sent through the ‘Haunted Woods’ to borrow one), so even the younger members of Avonlea may have worn blouses made from Marilla’s blouse. (I know! I’m skipping between the miniseries and two different literary worlds with abandon!)

The shirt looks fabulous on both my models, which I am so pleased about, because there was a good chance that this could end up being frumpy.

The Challenge: Silver Screen

The Onscreen Inspiration: Marilla’s Blouse from 1985’s Anne of Green Gables.

Fabric: 2m Striped cotton shirting ($4 from Fabric-a-Brac)

Pattern: Wearing History’s Edwardian Blouse pattern, modified to add a yoke, and a peplum waist.

Year: ca. 1900

Notions: buttons (50 cents), thread (50 cents)

How historically accurate is it?: The pattern and construction are quite accurate, I’ve yet to find a documented example of the chevron sleeves on this type of blouse.

Hours to complete: 5

First worn: Sun 18th October, for a photoshoot at the Katherine Mansfield Birthplace, and then again Sun 25th October, for an Anne of Green Gables inspired photoshoot in New Plymouth’s Pukekura Park

Total cost: $6