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A Miramar Gothic Dress thedreamstress.com

A Miramar Gothic Dress

Some of the most popular sewing classes I teach are focused on sewing with knits: lots of experienced sewers have never worked with knits, and knits are a great next step for beginner sewers.  I teach classes on T-shirts, knickers & leggings, but the first two can  be fairly fussy & stressful for beginners (bindings are tricky!), and they are all really pragmatic.   I wanted to be able to offer a REALLY easy class with no bindings or set-in sleeves, for a knit garment that could be  practical  or glamorous, and winter or summer appropriate.

So, playing around with this idea, and riffing off a couple of tops I’ve owned and loved over the years, I came up with the Miramar dress and top.  It’s got cut-on sleeves, a flattering V-neck, and can be as fun or elegant as you want, depending on fabric.  Plus, with just two pattern pieces, it goes together quickly.

Quickly is where this dress comes in.  Mr D & I were heading down to Nelson for his grandfather’s 90th birthday back in July, and I needed something to wear to the party, and the weather prediction was for COLD.  Cold and I are NOT  friends.  So I needed something dressy, glamorous, and WARM.

I’d just finalised the pattern for the Miramar dress, and I realised that a long version of the dress would be perfect.  I had a couple of meters of  merino-silk blend  knit in graphite (yum!), I could wear merino leggings and a merino undershirt underneath, my Capelet of Yay over it, and be elegant and snuggly.

When did I realise all of this?  At 11:30pm on Friday night.  With our flight leaving Wellington at 11am the next morning.

So…rush time!

I laid out the fabric & pattern pieces Friday night, traced out the alterations for a longer skirt, and went to bed.

On Saturday morning I popped up at 8:30, whizzed through all the seams, hemmed the dress (slightly shorter than I should have – sigh) tried it on, and had a little panic.  In my haste I’d nicked the seam allowances in the upper arm while cutting, so had to cut the sleeves slimmer, and since the knit didn’t have quite as much vertical stretch as the pattern was drafted for (it had none, in fact!) my upper arms were snug little immovable sausages.  Ergh.

Brainstorm!  Slice off the seam allowances to shoulder, grab length of black lace trim, insert lace along sleeve allowances (note to self: never attempt to insert lace into a closed sleeve again), re-hem sleeves, admire wider sleeves.

It worked!

And we made our flight in time and I wore the dress to the dinner and was almost warm enough.

As I’d been cutting and sewing the dress I thought to myself that the silhouette was quite medieval, as was the very simple construction.  In the black merino silk, with black lace insets, the dress felt like a lost garment from the gothic phase I never went through, so was instantly dubbed the Miramar Gothic dress.

And obviously, if I had a Miramar Gothic dress, I needed to do an American Gothic style photoshoot!

I thought about finding a house in Miramar in Gothic Revival, or at least bungalow-y style to shoot in front of, and posing with Mr D, but I would also need a photographer, a pitchfork (or whatever we decided was the appropriate Miramar equivalent), AND a cooperative Mr D, and it was all just too hard.

Plus, I’ve always agreed with the female model that the painting depicts a man and his daughter. Pity my Dad is in Hawaii and I can’t pose with him, because he’d be a great sport about it.

But wait….

My dad is in Hawaii, but there IS a statue of him in Miramar…

…Or at least, a statue that would be a dead ringer for him if he grew out his beard really long and wore robes and capes and carried a wizard’s staff!

Wait, what?

Yep.  My dad looks a LOT like Ian McKellan, and hence, my dad looks like Gandalf.  If we dressed him up and hung out in  front of Weta Cave and near the LotR filming spot in Mt Vic I bet we could get a bunch of tourists REALLY excited on a daily basis.  He’d have to keep his mouth shut though, because I think the American accent might give the game away.

But, without a dad to pose with, there is at least a Gandalf statue in front of the Roxy Cinema in Miramar, so after breakfast on Saturday Mr D & I headed down to try to recreate American Gothic.

Here’s how we did:

A Miramar Gothic Dress thedreamstress.com

I should really be looking slightly to my left, and Gandalf should be holding his staff between us, but not too bad!  He does look suitably stern.  And it’s certainly very Miramar!

We only had a few minutes to pose because 1) it was COLD (as as mentioned, I’m not good at cold), and 2) the queue of tourists started giving us dirty looks for hogging the statue, so I had to move off and let them get their photos with it.

A Miramar Gothic Dress thedreamstress.com

After a stint in the car with the heater blasting to take my hands back from purple to normal-ish human colours, we went a few blocks further up Park Road to where some awesome person has painted an electricity shed to look like a bookshelf.

A Miramar Gothic Dress thedreamstress.com

I posed in front of the shed for as long as I could stand, having fun reading the book titles (lots of classics, books relevant to the Miramar film industry, and other Miramar relevant books & documents, including The Taranaki Whānui ki Te Upoko o Te Ika Claims Settlement Act 2009, and a binder of power bills.

A Miramar Gothic Dress thedreamstress.com

I’ve made a couple of changes to the dress since Granbob’s dinner, which you can see in the photos.

A Miramar Gothic Dress thedreamstress.com

The lace looked gorgeous and worked, but was itchy, so I replaced it with a strip of the merino silk that runs from sleeve to sleeve, across my shoulders.  It twists across my arms in a really interesting way, which I quite like.

A Miramar Gothic Dress thedreamstress.com

Because the strip runs across my back, it created extra fullness at the back of the dress, so I took that in with a series of small tucks.

A Miramar Gothic Dress thedreamstress.com

I’ll tell you about the belt I’m wearing with my dress in my next post.

A Miramar Gothic Dress thedreamstress.com

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Trimming a hat with a silk stocking, ’20s style

I came across this tutorial for making a hat from an old silk stocking in my Feb 1928 issue of The Women’s Magazine, and I thought it was rather fabulous and something that you might enjoy.  What a great re-use idea!  It’s also a great insight into the colours and aesthetics that were en vogue on the eve of the Great Depression.

Now, if only I had any old silk stockings to re-use 😉

The Women's Magazine, Feb 1928 thedreamstress.com

The Women's Magazine, Feb 1928 thedreamstress.com2

The Women's Magazine, Feb 1928 thedreamstress.com3

Rate the Dress: 1860s embroidery & steel

Last week I showed you a late 17th century ‘seamstress’ in pink petticoat and golden brown mantua, her dress covered by her sewing apron.  Her sewing apron received a lot of flack for being so little, which I didn’t understand – it’s not like you really get dirty sewing!  You just want something big enough to have a few pockets to hold things and a place to catch any little threads you cut off!

In addition to the apron, very few of you liked the colours, or the overall proportions, or the headgear, dragging the score down to 6.4 out of 10

One of the criticisms about the fashion plate was that you can’t see the details, so this week we’re looking at a dress that while simple in silhouette, is all about the details.  This dress from the Victoria & Albert Museum features black embroidery with geometric and floral motifs, highlighted with steel beading, and is further trimmed with black silk and steel beading.

The silhouette of the dress is very typical of the mid 1860s, as is the teal green and black colour combination.  Though achievable with natural dyes, the teal green is quite possible a new aniline dye, and may have faded with time.

Though much of the dress is quite standard for its timeperiod, there are a few unusual elements.  The floral embroidery, though not unknown, is fairly uncommon in the 1860s, when dress patterning tended to be either woven in or printed on, while applied decorations were  confined to more bold, geometric shapes, such as the twisted ribbon  patterning the florals are paired with.

The sleeves of the dress are also rather unique, pairing the standard 1860s curved sleeves with a touch of Renaissance inspired slashing in the upper sleeves – a bit of historicism rarely seen in the 1860s.

What do you think? Does the combination of unexpected and unusual elements elevate the dress from a standard 1860s gown, or just create a weird mish-mash of disparate elements?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10