The Dreamstress

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Doing a Jantzen: 1920s bathers

I was (and still am) working on an elaborate project for the Historical Sew Fortnightly The Great Outdoors challenge, but (as so often happens), I’m busy dealing with stuff, and won’t be able to get it done in time, so it’s been pushed back to a later challenge.

Luckily, I quite unexpectedly ended up with the inspiration for a simpler alternative item. I’ve been working my way through all the various T-shirt patterns that are available at the moment.

I was trying the Tessuti Alexa T (not linking to it, because really, don’t buy it – SO overpriced for what it is) in a gorgeous fuchsia merino blend knit. Unfortunately, I was so disappointed in the cut of the T-shirt that it was unfixable (enormous armholes. You can fix almost anything but enormous armscythes in a T-shirt), and I almost threw it away.

Then I remembered the gorgeous fuchsia swimsuit that Knotrune did for the HSF Art challenge. She was inspired by Picasso’s Bathers, and my fuchsia wool was the same shade, and looking at Bathers, it wouldn’t be too hard for me to cut my T-shirt neckline’s down to match Picasso’s

Les baigneuses (The Bathers), Pablo Picasso, 1918

Of course, I had a T-shirt, and The Bathers are wearing one pieces. Off to do some research, which yielded, this:

Jantzen Swimming Suits, 1922, NYPL

Ta da! Early 1920s Jantzen girl wonderfulness – in two pieces!

So I adjusted the neckline of my T-shirt, bound it and the armscythes, and used the last of my merino to whip up a pair of knee-length shorts (using Cake’s Espresso leggings pattern, which I DO recommend, as my base).

And the result:

Ta da! Early 1920s (ish) swimwear wonderfulness! On me!

Because it’s the middle of winter, and far too cold to be outside in a swimsuit (even a wool one), I posed inside, in the bathroom. It seemed vaguely suitable, especially when I pretended to dive into the bath!

I’m really happy with my swimsuit, but I am just thinking of it as a working toile – it’s certainly not period perfect, but it does the job, and will help me to make another one that is perfect later on.

For now, it’s fun to wear, and it might even get a trial dip in the sea once the weather is warmer.

I might have to work on my diving form though…

Here are some flat shots, if you are interested in the construction:

I was short on fabric so had to do a bit of piecing:

The Challenge: #15 The Great Outdoors

Fabric: 1ishm of merino/something synthetic (probably nylon) blend knit.

Pattern: Extremely altered versions of Tessuti’s Alexa T (I don’t think there was a single line left that matched their pattern by the time I was done), and slightly altered Cake Espresso leggings.

Year: 1918-1924

Notions: polyester thread, elastic

How historically accurate is it?: Not much at all, since it didn’t start out as a period item. The construction itself is plausible, though I should have done my bindings slightly differently to match the period examples I have studied. The knit is much finer than a period knit. The overlocking is actually accurate, as overlockers have been around since the 1880s, and in the ‘teens and 20s were commonly used on knitwear and swimsuits.

Hours to complete: 3 or thereabouts, depending on whether you count my fussing with the Alexa pattern as part of the construction.

First worn: For the photoshoot

Total cost: I paid $15 for a 3x metres length of the merino at a clearance sale, and also made a long-sleeved T (that actually works!) out of it, and a cardigan, so lets say $5 +$1 in notions = $6 for the swimsuit.

And (of course), most importantly:

Does Felicity approve? Well, she certainly enjoyed hanging out with me as I sewed it!

Rate the Dress: a galant Nymph in a Robe a la Chinoise, retroussee

Published by The Dreamstress

Last week for Rate the Dress I showed a late Victorian walking dress, which the Mint Museum had styled as a skating suit. The mad authentic steampunk-ness of the ensemble captured some of your fancies, but the overall response ranged from quite negative to ‘it’s nice, but I’m not impressed’, so 7.3 out of 10.

My description came in at top points though!

This week I present another ‘walking’ dress, but this one with even less pretense of practicality:

Believe it or not, this is an outfit for walking (in the late 18th century sense at least). Our ‘galant nymph,’ parasol at the ready, is hastening (‘tranquilly’, no less) toward the Palais Royal.

Her ensemble is described as a robe a la Chinoise (I believe that is meant to be Chinese inspired, and the parasol probably added to the effect), with the skirt lifted up to reveal her striped petticoat and tucked through the pocket slits (retroussee).

The nymph’s bodice is also striped, with a striking chevron placement going up the centre back, and uncharacteristic (for the 18th century) horizontal stripes on her sleeves. A double-layered pinked ruffle, fur tippet, and bouffant frame her neckline.

On her head she wears a bonnet Ã¡ la Richard (inquiring minds want to know, which Richard inspired a cascade of pinked pink ribbon, a plethora of ruffles and poufs, all surmounted with a flourish of ostrich feathers in pink and grey? Is is supposed to be some sort of Medieval Lion-Hearted tribute?)

And her lifted skirt reveals white stockings and bowed shoes in a rich wine purple that perfectly coordinates with the stripes on her bodice and skirt.

Here she is again, in her be-wigged and be-poofed splendor, her deportment ‘majestic, noble, and proud’ (the writer who captioned the Galerie des Modes really didn’t hold back).

Clearly, it’s not an outfit for heavy exercising. But from the era of fashion excess, for a light promenade on a sunny day, when one can admire the outfits of the other ladies, and be admired in turn, it’s perfectly admirable.

Right?

Or is it resoundingly awful?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A simple Regency chemise

Published by The Dreamstress

One of my goals for the Historical Sew Fortnightly, both 2013 & 2014, has been to expand my Regency wardrobe.

So far, progress has been slow. I’ve made mitts, and my 1813 Kashmiri dress is a thing of beauty and a joy forever, but my wrap corset a la paresseus is a disappointment on.

But look, now I finally have a proper chemise, so I can stop wearing my 1880s ones under my Regency dresses!

(and I just feel the URGENT need to point out here that I’m wearing a bra, camisole, knickers, tap pants, and a slip under the chemise, so any weird shadows in the photo are JUST weird shadows!)

It’s entirely hand sewn, in a lightweight (not quite handkerchief weight) linen I picked up at Fabric-a-Brac for $5.

The chemise is classic fabric-saving geometric construction: one rectangle for the body, little rectangles for the sleeves, the extra fabric cut into long triangles to add width to the chemise, and square gussets under the arms to help with movement.

All the seams are flat felled, to reinforce them and hide any raw edges. There is something so wonderfully satisfying about hand sewing flat felled seams on nice linen!

I’ve been working on this for months, just as my bit of handsewing when there was nothing else on, but the vast majority of it got finished on a midwinter trip down to Nelson to visit my in-laws, where I sewed between rounds of scrabble and jenga.

I also got to sew somewhere quite exciting that used to be my most productive sewing place, but is now impossible except on tiny planes between obscure destinations (and even then I make sure to have my threads pre-cut, pack my scissors in my stowed luggage, and to use a needle I am willing to relinquish if the flight attendant isn’t sure it’s allowed).

To figure out the neckline, I put the chemise under the 1813 Kashmiri dress and copied out the neckline: low and square in front, dipped and round in back.

The chemise was finished well in time for the Under $10 challenge, and I got some quick documentary shots of it on Isabelle to post in the challenge album, but I just haven’t had the time to get photographs of me in it (and also, it’s been cold, and wearing only a chemise as outerwear when it is cold isn’t much fun).

This weekend I sucked it up and put on the chemise, and my corset a la paresseus, and a new pair of Under $10 stockings, and posed in the bedroom.

Unfortunately the wrap corset isn’t improving with time (sometimes I find I like initially disappointing projects much better the second or third wear), either in comfort, or in how it supports my bust. C’est la vie. Someone else will just have to wear it for me.

It’s still a really interesting garment, and at least I am very happy with the new chemise.

It fits just as I want it to, front and back, and the new (as in, not usually seen in earlier 18th century chemises) drawstring neckline provides just the right amount of snugging in. I hadn’t originally intended to use a drawstring neckline, as there are plenty of examples of Regency chemises without them, but it was just a wee bit too open without it.

The Challenge: Under $10

Fabric: 1.5m of lightweight linen (found at at fabric fair for $5, and I’ve got a 30cm or so of it left)

Pattern: None, based on period examples

Year: 1795-1825

Notions: linen thread, cotton tape

How historically accurate is it?: 95.99% – almost as close as you could get with a modern recreation. Excepting the bias drawstring binding, the materials are virtually indistinguishable in fibre, weave, hand etc, the pattern is period, and the construction techniques all match those seen on period examples.

Hours to complete: Lots. Maybe 8? I’m a slow hand sewer, and worked on this while doing other things.

First worn: For the photoshoot

Total cost: $5 (about US$3.5)

And most importantly…

Does Felicity Approve?:

I think we can give this a wholehearted yes: