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Rate the Dress: Johanna of Castille, regally patriotic

In keeping with the arrival of summer in the Northern Hemisphere, last week’s Rate the Dress was a warm-weather frock, 1870s style, in white cotton brocaded in red wool spots.

Some of you said the spots made the dress look as if it had measles, and some of you didn’t like the polonaised poof of the bustle, and some of you didn’t like those oh-so-Victorian sloping shoulders (question: if you  hate the mid-Victorian look for its sloping shoulders, do you also hate the 1950s New Look for its revival of the sloped-shoulder look?), and some of you didn’t like the black ribbon (which, incidentally, is my favourite part of the dress.  It’s the little bit of sex in an otherwise almost too-sweet frock.  It says “imagine if the neckline were here” or “tug me and see what happens”  – still tasteful, but just naughty enough to add dimensionality to the ensemble 😉 )

But most of you liked the frock, really liked it in fact, giving it a total of 8.8 out of 10 (despite the occasional score of only 5) and keeping up the rather nice winning streak we’ve been having,

This week I really wanted to give  you a depiction of a medieval garment to rate, but  there just aren’t that many images of medieval garments that are large enough, detailed enough, interesting enough, and obscure enough.  So I settled for  very late-Medieval-rushing-through-Renaissance-with-a-smattering  Tudor portrait of Johanna  of Castille:

Joanna, noted both for her beauty and for her intelligence, before she became known for her madness (an indisposition that was suspiciously convenient for both her father and her husband,  which I’m sure had nothing whatsoever to do with their determination to declare her mad and have her confined to a convent for the rest of her life so they could rule in her stead) was about 20 when this portrait was painted, and is  depicted wearing  a mix of romanticised costume, fashionable headgear, and status symbols.

The long, flowing skirt of Johanna’s gown looks back to medieval styles, and like her wide sleeves, provided an opportunity for the artist to meticulously render the sumptuous  fabrics of her garments.  The skirts may have been more fantasy than reality: other portraits of Joanna depict her in the fashionable Spanish farthingale that her younger sister Catherine famously introduced to England when she was married to Arthur.  Her headdress  is a current fashionable style, the black dye a particularly expensive colour, its severity serving to emphasise her noted looks.

The final piece to Joanna’s costume is her spectacular cloak, which presumably shows the coats of arms either of her titles, or of the nobles who owed her allegiance.  The cloak increases the chances that the portrait was painted after July of 1500, when Joanna became heiress to the Spanish kingdoms after the deaths of her older brother, sister, and nephew.   By this time Joanna had just begun to exhibit the first signs of what her family considered madness: religious scepticism, and an inclination to be lenient and liberal towards Protestants.

While probably not a strictly accurate depiction of Joanna, or what she wore, the Zeirikzee portrait is an excellent example of a the desired image  of a Queen in the minds of the Spanish & Flemish: regal, elegant, devout, beautiful, fertile (note the emphasis on the roundness of her stomach), there to be admired, rather than to act.

So what does her outfit make you think of when you look at her?  Does it appeal?  A proper case of right royal raiment?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.

Draping and cutting a 14th century gown

As I mentioned in the HSM ‘Out of Your Comfort Zone’ post, my challenge for this challenge is medieval: specifically a gown (kirtle) from the last quarter of the 14th century.

I’ve never made a medieval gown before, and my only dabble in medieval has been a shift (and really, a medieval shift is hardly different from an 18th c shift).  So this is a totally new period for me, and definitely out of my comfort zone.

To help, I’ve been relying on the following books:

  • Crowfoot, E., Pritchard, F. & Stainland, K. Textiles and Clothing c.1150-c.1450. Great Britain: Boydell Press,  2001
  • Thursfield, S. 2001. The Medieval’s Tailor’s Assitant – Making Common Garments 1200-1500. Bedford: Ruth Bean Publishers, 2001

And the following websites:

And a fair amount of messaging Sarah of A Most Peculiar Mademoiselle (and Som När Begav Sig) and asking ‘is this right?’ in varying levels of panicked-ness.

Though I’ll just get the dress done for this challenge, my medieval journey started over a year ago, when I began  researching for fabric, and discovered that medieval appropriate wool is actually really hard to find, at least in NZ (why must all wool fabric be either heavy coating or have lycra!).

With the fabric on hold, I went looking for inspiration:

I love the detailing on Katherine Mortimer, Countess of Warwick’s effigy.  I’ll definitely be copying the sleeve length, and the curve over the back of the hand.  I’ll see if I have enough energy to do all those buttons (aren’t they amazing though!).

Effigy of Katherine, Countess of Warwick, died 1369

Effigy of Katherine, Countess of Warwick, died 1369

For neckline and silhouette, I really like the overall silhouette and neckline of the red kirtle shown in this manuscript.  The neckline isn’t as extreme as many late 14th c necklines.

Also, the dude hanging out in the woods is basically the best thing ever.

I’m not exactly sure what I’m taking from this image, but I love it.  Maybe someday I’ll make that overdress…  Also, I rather like Atalante as a heroine, especially if she was beating all those men at footraces while wearing those gowns!

I also looked at this image for inspiration, though the neckline doesn’t appeal.

And I like this as a depiction of a slightly more practical, she’s actually doing work in it (though the trailing hem belies any real claims to practicality) garment:

The Tacuinum Sanitas of Vienna,  Late 14th century.

The Tacuinum Sanitas of Vienna, Late 14th century.

While accumulating inspiration I kept searching for a suitable wool, and I finally found the most gorgeous length of 1960s goose-turd green (yes, that’s an actual medieval colour) wool at Fabric-a-Brac, but it was only 2.8m at 130cm wide.  I bought it, but no matter how I measured and manipulated my pattern and thought about piecing, I couldn’t quite get a long sleeved gown out of 2.8m of wool.  Wailey wailey!

But, on the WSB fabric-shop-and-afternoon-tea day, I found a midweight, plain tabby weave, slightly felted 70/30 wool-viscose blend in what Pantone would have us call ‘marsala’.

Marsala or not, deep red-brown  is an excellent medieval colour for an upper class gown, achieved through either pure madder dye, or madder overdyed with walnut (or vice versa).  And I decided that I could live with a wool-viscose blend for my first medieval gown, as the viscose did  not significantly  change the hand, look, or wear of the fabric.

I’m hoping to use the yellow-green wool for an overgown with short sleeves and tippets.

So, on to pattern drafting in earnest!  I had two sewing friends over on a Sunday afternoon, and they carefully followed La Cotte Simple’s curved-front dress  draping tutorial, and sewed me into a very snug bust-supportive toile.  I was incredibly proud of them, and incredibly impressed with the tutorial, because neither of them had any draping experience, and basically I just stood there and did what I was told!

Except when I was lying on the floor pretending to be an effigy:

1350s-80s dress construction thedreamstress.com01

Once the pattern was draped on me, I traced it off onto patterning tissue, smoothed it out, and turned it into a full-length pattern:

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I’ll have to adjust it slightly once I sew it together, but I’m OK with that.  I will be doing all the hidden seams by sewing machine, because I get terrible chillblains in winter, and hand-sewing gets very  hard when my fingers and knuckles are all swollen.

1350s-80s dress construction thedreamstress.com05At the moment  my pattern  has 1.5cm seam allowances, which I plan to trim down to 1cm once I feel entirely confident  in the pattern.

I cut out the main body pieces, and then drew out my four gore pieces, and then had a little panic because my gore pieces only just fit, and there was no fabric left for sleeves!

1350s-80s dress construction thedreamstress.com06Oh no!  How had I miscalculated?!?

Felicity sympathised, and tried to punish the ruler for me:

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Then I realised that I had drafted  each gore to take  an entire width of 154cm wide fabric, which meant that my finished gown would have a hem circumference of approximately 760cm, which might be just a wee bit excessive…

La Cotte Simple suggests that gores should be at least 61cm wide at the bottom, lest your gown be too narrow, but doesn’t give any further advice.  And being me, I started overthinking.  If <61 is too narrow, at what point do gores become too wide? What if I’m bigger than the 61cm-is-wide-enough body size?

So Sarah got a message asking what the bottom width of her gores are, or what her average hem circumference is.  And she (very, very kindly, and politely) told me to go look at a pattern.

Duh.

So after consulting patterns based on the Greenland finds and the Moy Gown, I have determined that gore widths range from just under the full front-or-back width of a dress, to just over it.  Which makes perfect sense, as the full front-or-back width of the dress would have been hugely based/influenced by the available fabric widths, so of course a gore would be a folded fabric width (or two fabric widths with a seam down the centre) as well.

So I re-drew my gores one last time, so that I got all four gores from a folded width of 154cm wide fabric:

1350s-80s dress construction thedreamstress.com09

(I know, it’s impossible to tell which are the right lines in that mess of lines, but the important thing is that I could!).

Felicity helped:

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I’m so glad that Sarah  directed me back to the patterns, instead of just telling me a number, because it made me think about the logic of it, and understand the process behind it, which is much better learning than knowing a figure.

With my gores cut, I had all the main body pieces cut out.  I’ll be drafting the sleeves later, once the body of the garment is sewn and fitted.  (I know, I know, I’m really just procrastinating on the sleeves, because everyone talks about how scary medieval sleeves are, and they have gotten to me and pysched  me out, which is dumb, because I don’t find sleeves scary!  Usually.  I hope!)

1350s-80s dress construction thedreamstress.com11

Next up: cutting my linen lining, sewing the main body parts together, fitting, and…buttons!

HSF/M ’15: Challenge #6: Out of Your Comfort Zone

The June challenge for the Historical Sew Monthly 2015 is Out of Your Comfort Zone:  Create  a garment  from a time period you haven’t done before, or  that uses a new skill or technique that you’ve never tried before.

Of all the challenges this year, it’s probably the one I’m most excited about, both as a sewer, and as an organiser.  (I know, I say I’m most excited about all of them, and I AM always super excited when they start coming up, but I’m definitely most excited about this one overall!)

The first  impetus of the HSF/M was to give the motivation to sew, but it’s also always been intended to really push our sewing boundaries, and to encourage interactions.

What better way to push our boundaries than with a challenge that is all about that?  And what better way to encourage collaborations and interactions than to make us try a new skill or time-period, which is inevitably going to involve asking the other members for advice, and looking at the research and creations of  other sewers  for reference?

For those looking for inspiration for the challenge, the easy, obvious, bound-to-qualify  choice is to go for a new time-period.

Using a new skill or technique is also pretty obvious, but I think you could also have fun interpreting it, especially if you wanted to stay within a particular period.

A new skill could be using a new resource for research: going to an actual physical resource, like a really comprehensive library, or archives, and learning how to use their  resources for research. Or using original documentation, if you’ve generally primarily  relied on secondary research.

Really upping your levels of historical accuracy could also be a new skill.  Being historically accurate, and really thinking about the ramifications of accuracy (rather than just ‘is this hand-sewn or not’), is actually a skill, and one you can develop (I feel like I’m always working on it and learning something new!).

Learning to drape or draft your own pattern is an awesome skill, and one which applies in every period.  There are a variety of tutorials showing it for various periods on the internet (I show the process in a number of my portfolio albums).

Any of that qualifies, and long as you really are getting out of your comfort zone, and really pushing yourself.  This is not the challenge for playing it safe!

As for me, I’m doing a bit of all of it!

I’m tackling a 14th century dress (so exciting!), because other than one shift  (that turned out not to be at all accurate anyway), medieval is never a period I’ve done before.  Doing medieval also means I’ll be learning to make self-fabric buttons, which is an entirely new technique to me.  And I’ll have to seriously improve my hand-sewn buttonhole skills, which are currently rubbish, so getting them to good pretty much counts as a new technique.

Giovanni Boccaccio, De mulieribus claris (On Famous Women), 1374, illustration showing women spinning, carding, and weaving wool

Giovanni Boccaccio, De mulieribus claris (On Famous Women), 1374, illustration showing women spinning, carding, and weaving wool

I  have done a lot of pattern drafting and draping, so can’t claim that, but I did get two sewing friends who had never done any on-body draping before to help me with it (it is rather hard to drape on yourself), or any historical sewing, so I did introduce two other people to a new skill, and am feeling pretty chuffed about that.

Oh, and speaking of learning to drape, we used La Cotte Simple’s draping tutorial for my pattern, which is a great starting-to-learn-to-drape point!

Whatever new thing you are tackling, good luck, and good learning!  And wish me some!  😉