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Karen’s Gift: the butter yellow 1930s/40s negligee

Over a year ago I received an email out of the blue from a blog reader who had a small collection of 20s & 30s clothes that she thought I might like.

Would I ever!  That lovely lady was Karen, and the day her box arrived was like all my birthdays coming at once (only without any additional wrinkles or grey hairs): silks and velvets and beading and lace.

The contents were a treasure trove of amazing pieces, in all my favourite colours and techniques.  I photographed them right away, and have been meaning to share them with you ever since, but I’ve just been continually too busy this year.

I finally got all the photos sorted for one of my favourite items (who am I kidding, they are ALL my favourite items!) and was going to show it to you to coincide with the HSF Yellow challenge, and then internet in Vanuatu was too expensive to upload them.

So, a little late, but no less deliciously gorgeous, I present this 1930s/40s silk negligee  in butter yellow.

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

 

(is negligee the right thing to call it?  I mean, you can’t quite call something like this a nightgown, but I always think of a negligee as opening up the front)

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

The really interesting thing about this is that it is entirely hand-sewn, but it’s not homemade.  It bears the label of ‘Leron / Fifth Ave. New York’

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

 

This (along with the silk)  indicates that it would have been an extremely expensive and luxurious item in its time – practically couture (and true couture  is still hugely handsewn).  Once sewing machines became common, handsewing became a status symbol.  L.M. Montgomery stories have a number of mentions of baby clothes or wedding trousseaus with ‘every stitch by hand.’

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

 

The stitching is beautifully done – fine, even and perfect.  From the tiny piped bands that control the gathers of the bodice…

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

…And the perfectly even binding and minute gathers…

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

…To the pinstitching attaching the chiffon bodice to the skirt…

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

 

And finally, to the the tiny rolled hem…

 

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

 

…The sewing is clearly the work of a  consummate needlewoman.

I suspect that the negligee may very well have belonged to a bride.  There is something about the colours and cut that is very youthful and innocent.  Other than her honeymoon or in a Disney fairytale where she’s bouncing out of bed to throw open the shutters and sing while birds perch on her outstretched hands, I can’t imagine when a girl would wear this!

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

 

Today you could easily wear this as an evening dress, or even a wedding dress, and with a slip  underneath, few people would realise that it was originally little more than a slip itself!

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

 

And so turns fashion!

 

Leron Fifth Avenue 1930s negligee thedreamstress.com

 

Thank you a million times to Karen for giving me this amazing piece to study and share.  It brings me a little happiness and sunshine every time I think of it: the lovely yellow, and that long ago seamstress, making her living with perfect stitches.

If you want to see a few more pieces of vintage beautifulness in my collection, check out my posts on Elise’s gift,  Theresa’s 1915 dress, and Lynne’s quilted petticoat.

 

Welcome to my sewing space(s): The WSB sewing room tour

A month or more ago, the lovely Gemma of the Wellington Sewing Bloggers Network had the cunning idea that we should all show off our sewing spaces ‘as they really are’, to show people how we sew and organise (or don’t 😉 ).

I though: Fabulous idea!  Of course I’ll be in!

And then I realised my spot on the tour would cooincide with absolute madness in my life: hosting a party with dozens of people through the house, teaching in the day at uni and every night of the week sewing classes.  Plus working on a massive sewing project.  Not to mention that my sewing space has never actually been turned into a ‘space’ since we moved in – it’s just had stuff shoved in it.  So you REALLY are seeing my sewing space in the raw!  It gets a LOT tidier than this (I can be obsessively neat at times), and will be getting much better organised, and more thought out as I figure out the space.

So there is my caveat!  Now for the tour…

My sewing space(s)

Technically, my sewing space is the sunroom off the lounge:

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

It’s got my sewing desk on one end (with near-permanent cat in residence):

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

And a cupboard full of all the daily-use notions, with boxes of patterns piled on top, hoopskirts hooked behind, and boxes of fabric stacked in front of it at  the other end:

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

The top shelf of the cupboard is threads in shoeboxes on one side (yes, I have a whole shoebox full of greens, and one of yellows, oranges, and orange-reds, one of black, one of white, one of purple, pinks & purple reds, two blues by shades…), and bias tapes in shoeboxes on the other.

The next shelf down is buttons, hooks and other fasteners, sorted by size, number of buttons, and look.

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

The third shelf is miscellaneous stuff: dyes, curtain tapes, lacings, interfacings…you name it.

And the bottom shelf is printed-out patterns, and some of my drafted patterns.

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

All along the front wall are cupboards and boxes full of fabric & PHDs.  It’s particularly messy and disastrous at the moment because, in addition to uni teaching and night teaching, I’ve got a the big Katherine Mansfield  event coming up.

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

Of all the spaces in the house, it’s the one that is least organised and as-it-should-be.  When we moved in it just got used as a dumping space for all the extra bits, and I haven’t had the time to really figure out what furniture it needs to be ‘right’, and get it sorted.

It’s a lovely cozy, bright  space in autumn, winter and spring, but I suspect that in summer it will  get a bit hot and glare-y.  So far though, it’s just warm enough to make it Felicity’s favourite hang-out spot (and the constantly changing array of fabrics to lie on, and occasional interest of me on the machine, just make it all the more desirable).

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

When I’m really working on something big I also tend to spread out all over the dining room table, and the living room floor (and then Felicity tends to spread out all over wherever I have spread out).

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

My main sewing machine is a Janome Sewist 521 (I also have a 1970s Janome, Nana’s 1930s electric Singer (the first electric machine available in NZ), and a 1903 Standard.  Because I’m a historical seamstress, I really prefer mechanical machines to computerised machines, and the Sewist 521, although it isn’t expensive or fancy, is by far the best non-computerised new machine available in NZ at the moment.

I also have two overlockers: one that was a gift, and the other that I found at an op shop.

What I’m working on:  

I’ve just finished another Henrietta Maria dress, but haven’t photographed it properly or blogged about it.

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

Right now it’s all about finishing the final bits for my upcoming talk: Clothing the World of Katherine Mansfield, so I’m ankle deep in wool serge for the turn-of-the-century bathing suit I started for the HSF ‘Great Outdoors’ challenge, and blue faille for an 1890s walking dress.

There are also various class samples, HSF challenge items, and sundry other bits on the go, as there are at any given time!

Next project in line

Even more Katherine Mansfield stuff!  I would really, really like to make the Wearing History 1910s jacket and skirt for the talk, but don’t know if I have enough time.

Show off your stash

Like, all of it?  How much time do I have?  This may turn out to be an experiment in ‘how long will WordPress allow a blog post to be?!?”

There is the bins of blue wool, silk & rayon fabrics, and a box of blue cottons, and a bin of brown fabric, and a bin of knit fabric in my sunroom sewing room.

There is  the chest of black fabrics in the lounge (currently being protected by Felicity).

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

And the stack of suitcases with kimono fabrics, and laces, and ribbons, and linens in the lounge.

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

And the coffin boxes (yes, that is the technical name for that exact size of box)of green, white, and red fabrics under our  bed.

And the stack of suitcases with finished historical garments and gold and yellow fabrics in the guest bedroom.

My messy sewing space, thedreamstress.com

Hmmm…looks like the other bloggers just showed off their favourite pieces.

Some of my favourite fabrics are featured in the shot below.

On the left is an heavy Indian silk/rayon with gold and silver brocading (sometimes called an Imperial brocade).  It’s going to be turned into an early 18th century jacket.  The brocatelle is to cover a cushion, the golden orange damask is in the (long, slow) process of becoming an entirely hand-sewn 1720s robe de coer based on a portrait of Mariana Victoria, the chartreuse brocaded silk  is fabulous and delicious and is also designated for the 18th century.

Both it and the green damask at the end were inherited from Nana, though I don’t know what I’m going to do with the damask.For now I just pet it and coo at it. 😉   That’s a valid use for fabric, right?

Left to right: Imperial brocade, tapestry/brocatelle, damask, brocade, damask

Left to right: Imperial brocade, tapestry/brocatelle, damask, brocade, damask

All of these fabrics featured in my post on  the difference between brocades, jacquards & damasks.  Clearly I lean toward elaborate, mad historical fabrics as favourite pieces!  And yellow and green!

And  obviously I own a LOT of fabric.  And I’m OK with that.  My work is all about sewing and textiles.  I have to own a lot of fabric to do it effectively.

It’s not just a static stash though.  Everything I own gets used at least once a year, because even if I’m not sewing with a fabric, I use it for shop displays at Made on Marion, and for teaching classes on fabric history and fabric identification.  For the last two years I have made myself sew and de-stash more than I accumulate, and so the stash is actually a bit smaller than it has been.

Favourite thing I’ve made

The 1660s Ninon dress.  No contest.  It’s golden yellow and silk and almost entirely handsewn, and just thinking about it makes me happy.

Ninon's Dress thedreamstress.com

 

1660s Ninon gown thedreamstress.com

I hope you enjoyed the tour!

Be sure to have a look at the other WSBN’s sewing spaces for inspiration, or just to feel better about how much better organised your space is 😉

Gillian of Sewing Down Under posted yesterday (and you can follow her link to the one from the day before, and that one to the previous, ad infinitum (OK, not quite, but there are now a lot of sewing bloggers in Wellington!), and Teresa will be posting tomorrow (and maybe mentioning the exciting cardigan she is working on!)

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And now that the tour is done, the full list (and I’d like to point out that with 25 sewing bloggers in Wellington there is one sewing blogger for every 16,000 residents, which may give us the highest concentration of sewing bloggers of any city in the world! (though actually, there are 30 WSB, so that takes us to one blogger for every 13,000 and a bit residents!) ):

1st: Gemma at 66 Stitches
2nd: Laura at Laulipopnz
4th: Nikki at NikkiStitches
5th: Juliet at Crazy Gypsy Chronicles
6th: Sandra at SewistStitch
7th: Sophie-Lee at Two Random Words
8th: Kat at Macskakat
9th: Holly at Polycraftual
10th: MaryLouise at Thanks I made this myself
11th: Nina at Ninavirgo
12th: Sandra at FlossieFT
13th: Melissa at The Curous Kiwi
14th: Zara at Off-Grid Chic
15th: Crafty Mermaid
16th: Gillian at Sewing Down Under
17th: Leimomi at The Dreamstress
18th: Teresa at Adventures of a Girl from the Naki
19th: Joy at Acharmofmagpies
20th: Nicola at Silvern Swan
21st: Jenna at Ruby Dust
22nd: Maryanne at Sent from my iRon
25th: Elisabeth at The Sewphist

Rate the Dress: Walking in Stripes in the late 1860s

Last week I showed you a Regency era fashion plate that featured  a decidedly interesting evening dress.  Opinions on the dress were decidedly divided: you either thought it was fabulous (with small caveats about the peplum and bodice trim), or hated it.  And you either thought it would be even more fabulous on a body, or far less fabulous!  So most scores were either well below 5, or well above 5, resulting in a rating of 7.4 out of 10.  Wackiness and all, I guess more of you liked it than not!

This week’s Rate the Dress in a little toned down compared to last week, but it does carry on the peplum theme.

This striped walking ensemble features a fitted bodice, a bustled skirt, and a separate belt with false peplum.

The dressmaker has made full use of the stripes: arranging them vertically, horizontally, and on the bias.  But the striped usage isn’t always what we’d expect: note how the bias chevrons down the front don’t form further ‘V’ shapes, but crook at angles across the point.  And the peplum stripes run parallel to the front edge, rather than angling  away and enhancing the effect of the skirt flare away from the waist.

What do you think?  Would a lady strolling down the sidewalk in this ensemble present a picture of scintillating interest as the stripes shifted and moved?  Is the potentially overpowering pattern and trim balanced by the subtle colours (in a generally unsubtle era)?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.