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A serendipitous post-war wedding dress

A few months back I volunteered to go to my least favourite part of the greater Wellington area (Porirua city, just up the coast from us) in order to buy something for a friend that could only be gotten at a store there.

While it has some good points (a really wonderful museum for starters), as far as driving and traffic are concerned, Porirua is the oozing carbuncle on the otherwise pert and rosy bottom of the North Island that is the Wellington area. Getting where I needed to go involves 25 minutes of motorway (you know you are spoiled when 25 minutes of motorway is a grueling drive), and then no less than six roundabouts in a row, and a dozen speed bumps. Take the wrong exit from one of those roundabout and you either end up in a vast, enormous maze of shopping mall parking lot, impossible to find your way out of, or on a street where your only option is to take the most impossible right turn into traffic ever.

Now, I like a roundabout or two, but six in a row tends to get nerve wracking. And I always get lost in Porirua, either going around the roundabouts, or just getting to them in the first place.

So this time I thought I’d be clever and take the back road from the Wellington suburb of Johnsonville, through the town of Tawa (Staten Island to Wellington’s Manhattan), and then on to Porirua. I’d still have to brave the maze or roundabouts at the end, but the drive to them would be much prettier, and with less traffic.

I got lost.

But then, in getting lost, I saw a sign that pointed to ‘Trash Palace’ and I thought to myself “Oooh…that’s the dump shop. I’ve heard that sometimes they have old patterns there”. So I followed the sign.

They didn’t have old patterns.

But they did have this:

It’s a wedding dress from the late 1940s.

It even came with the tiara it was worn with:

They were both hanging on the wall amongst some random stuff, with a tag that said “Wedding dress and tiara $35”. Of course I had to have them!

When I took them to check out the cashier wasn’t the sharpest tool, and charged me $35 for the dress “And we’ll say $1 for the headband”. After a brief but futile effort to explain the tiara concept I decided that $36 was still more than fair!

Trash Palace is located just before the dump, and it’s a charity shop that people can donate stuff to that is a bit too good to completely toss. In general, it’s much rougher and grubbier and has a much wider assortment of stuff than your average charity shop: lots of half broken furniture and garden implements, shelves and shelves of dusty crockery. There may be treasures if you are willing to hunt for them, and get really dirty. Luckily my dress was in the cleanest part of the shop.

I imagine that my dress was carefully stored and kept by the bride who wore it in her post-war wedding, but perhaps she passed away with no family, so whoever cleared out her estate dropped her dress at the shop while dumping other stuff. It seems so sad for the story to end there, so I’m glad I found it, and can show it off just a little and give it another life.

The dress is a classic late 1940s/early 50s style. It’s made of acetate (one of the many manufactured naturals that became popular between WWI & WWII) with a tone-on-tone abstract floral pattern. Acetate was sold in New Zealand from about the mid-1930s.

While the cut of the dress, with its long sleeves, full skirt, train and numerous buttons, is luxurious, the acetate fabric is one of the many things hints at the continued fabric shortages and rationing of the late 1940s. New Zealand fared better than most countries as far as food and access to goods throughout WWII (and certainly better than Great Britain), but they still experienced considerable trade interruptions, and certain things were in short supply well into the 1950s. One of these was lace.

I’ve heard from numerous women who were brides during and after WWII (and their children) how hard it was to find lace for wedding dresses, and how desperately brides wanted lace. One of the common solutions was to make your own lace-like decoration with piping, braid, trim, net and soutache. Soutache and braid work were very popular in 1940s fashion, but interviews with older sewers confirms that the decorations on 1940s dresses were usually meant to imitate the un-obtainable lace. I’ve seen examples of 1940s wedding dresses decorated with hundreds of metres of self-fabric tubing, laid out in elaborate swirls which mimicked common lace motifs. This dress takes a simpler approach, creating a face framing ‘lace’ collar with net and braid.

This, more than anything else, dates the dress. By the early ’50s lace was available again, so every dated example of a make-do lace dress I’ve seen in New Zealand was pre 1951.

In addition to the ‘lace’ collar another attempt at lace-like lightness and decoration is made with a rayon georgette ruffle around the back of the train.

The ruffle not only adds a decorative element to the train, it helps it to fall in beautiful, smooth folds, and to spread out nicely.

The rayon georgette is an earlier fabric than that of the rest of the dress, and may have been recycled from another garment, or saved from another project. Either because there wasn’t enough of it, or because the dress was hemmed too short, or simply as a design element, the ruffle at the front of the dress is of the same fabric as the rest of the dress, and is longer.

The dress itself is quite short: it would fit a woman of no more than 5’3″. It’s also quite small: it just fits my size 10 dress form, and would be a modern New Zealand size 6 or 8.

If she were small enough, it could almost be worn by another bride, although there is some minor foxing (an acid reaction that happens with age) and all of the seams would need checking and re-inforcing, as the fabric is giving way at one side bodice seam.

Other than the braid decoration and the button-up back, the construction is very simple and straightforward, and the interior finish is basic, with pinked interior seams.

I do wonder who the bride was, and what her wedding was like. Did she make her own dress? Or did her mother make it? Did they go to a dressmaker?

So many stories in one beautiful frock! And what a lucky chance to find it as my reward for braving Porirua for a friend!

Rate the Dress: ’20s sportswear

Published by The Dreamstress

Last week I showed you an 1820s riding habit, and though late Regency is often a difficult period, you loved the riding habit and it rated a 9.5 out of 10. It might have been even higher if it weren’t for the creepy mannequin!

This week’s ensemble is sort-of the 20th century equivalent of last weeks riding habit. In the 19th century riding and walking became more common as leisure activities for women, and riding habits (though they had existed in the 18th century) became more practical, though last week’s habit was more restrictive than relaxed. In the 20th century all sorts of outdoor activities were encouraged for women, and sportswear as we know it today emerged.

This sportswear ensemble from the Museum at FIT reflects the new emphasis on athleticism and simple, casual, outdoorsy outfits.

Sportswear ensemble of blue, grey and turquoise wool knit and navy wool crepe, c. 1927, France, Museum at FIT, 2009.15.7

What do you think of the skirt of navy wool crepe, and matching top, cardigan, scarf and beret of grey wool with navy bindings and modernist inspired navy and turquoise machine embroidery? Do you like the simple ease of it, or is it too plain and boring? The 1920s have been one of the most divisive decades on Rate the Dress, so I await your verdict on this one with some anticipation.

Sportswear ensemble of blue, grey and turquoise wool knit and navy wool crepe, c. 1927, France, Museum at FIT, 2009.15.7

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

The HSF ’14: Challenge #13: Under $10

Published by The Dreamstress

The 13th challenge in the Historical Sew Fortnightly 2014 (due Tuesday July 15th) is about frugality: make something with materials that cost Under $10 (using US dollars as the de-facto standard).

Frugality is a particularly historically appropriate theme, as seamstresses throughout history have striven to make as much as possible, with as little money as possible. For most sewers, every garment had to be carefully budgeted and saved for, and every bit of fabric would be used, and if possible, re-used.

Even the most decadent of seamstresses practiced frugality: we know that Madame de Pompadour (whose clothing expenditure far exceeded Marie Antoinette’s) had petticoats with fancy silk fronts, and cheap coarse linen backs, to save on expensive silk. And Worth, the epitome of 19th century sartorial luxury, made a practice of using the selvedges of his fabrics in his designs – utilizing every bit of fabric.

While I doubt that many of us would be able to make something Madame de Pompadour or Worth worthy for $10, I still can’t wait to see what we do come up with. What each participant will be able to make for $10 will depend on their own area and stash, their sewing goals, and what period they work in. Some of us will use gift fabric, some of us will use scraps from our sewing bin, some of us will buy exactly $10 worth of materials, and some of us will repurpose something that would once have been far more expensive. Even the littlest, simplest thing, it beautifully made, researched and thought out, can add immeasurably to the effect and accuracy of an outfit.

Here are ten things that I’ve made for under $10 over the last year and a bit for the Historical Sew Fortnightly. Some are thanks to the generosity of others who have helped me out, some are thanks to lucky finds with cheap fabric, and some are simply made from materials that are both period accurate, and generally affordable.

#10: My 1770s red linen paniers – made for exactly NZ$10 (about US$9 at the moment) thanks to a lucky find with the linen and cane hooping being quite affordable. And (excepting the cotton tape rather than linen) they are perfectly period accurate.

At #9, the Ettie Mae 1930s Hooverette dress cost me $9.50 to make, thanks to some good fabric sales. I see 1930s inspired quilting cottons (granted, they aren’t period accurate) on sale on US websites all the time, and it takes so little fabric to make most 1930s patterns, so it’s an easy, cheap option.

#8 is for my Flora’s Secret 1790s shoe refashion, which it turns out only cost me $8.30, because I actually bought the shoes for $6, not $8. Refashioning shoes is cheap and easy, and very effective.

#7 is another refashion – this time the Fedora to Cloche 1920s remake. At $7, it’s the perfect way to finish off a 1920s or early 30s ensemble.

#6 is my late 18th century ‘brown’ linen shift, in at only $5 (maybe $6 if you count the thread). Now, I’ll admit that this one was pure luck. It’s not often that you find a shift worth of period accurate linen for only $5 (though it has happened to me more than once (my nettle smock cost exactly the same amount to make), so perhaps it isn’t that uncommon!)

#5 is for my $4 18th century bergere, from a simple, cheap, easy to source sunhat and a bit of leftover fabric for puffs. And I wrote a tutorial!

#4: Courtesy of a lucky find at an op shop, I was able to make my 1930s Smooth Sewing trousers for only $3. The fabric was a lovely rayon, but it’s a fabric that I’ve seen at NZ op shops many times, and always reasonably priced.

#3 cost me $2, for my 1780s bum rump. Sure, it’s not period-perfect, but it’s pretty reasonable, and you probably could use scraps from period project to make one for under $10.

#2: My 1920s ‘Little Bit of Red’ cloche, a steal at $1.50. Simple straw hats turn up in op-shops in NZ all the time for under $5, and with a few bits of ribbon or some fabric scraps you can easily have a fully trimmed hat for less than $10.

And finally, #1 is my early 19th century pineapple reticule, which cost me exactly nothing, because it was all from scraps from other projects that had been in my stash for years, and almost all of us have access to scraps which can cheaply (and accurately) be used to whip up a little something.

So whether you go all out and make something that cost a whole $10, or manage to make something fabulous for nothing at all, best of luck creating an item that celebrates the frugality and ingenuity of our historical antecedents!