Latest Posts

Felicity lends a paw

Felicity was a big help with the waistcoat I just finished.  I couldn’t possibly have done it without her!

Felicity the cat and an 18th century waistcoat, thedreamstress.comYour buttons are way too straight and boring.  I can fix that for you.

Felicity the cat and an 18th century waistcoat, thedreamstress.comNicely out of line now, but oh dear, one has gone missing!  Don’t worry, I’ll find it.

Felicity the cat and an 18th century waistcoat, thedreamstress.comI  will go to any length and depth necessary!  I will not rest until it is found!

Felicity the cat and an 18th century waistcoat, thedreamstress.comOh, there it is!  How on earth did it get there?

Felicity the cat and an 18th century waistcoat, thedreamstress.comYou want it back on the waistcoat with the others?  Demanding!  

Felicity the cat and an 18th century waistcoat, thedreamstress.comThere you go, right back where it started.  Happy now?

 

An 18th century man-bodice (aka a waistcoat)

When I set the Historical Sew Fortnightly Challenge #5 “Bodice” I knew exactly what I wanted to make: a 1720s robe de cour bodice for Mariana Victoria, for the 18th Century Court Dress sew along.

And when the challenge was approaching I got started – adapting my Ninon pattern for a later date, dyeing the fabric, cutting the bodice lining, sewing in the boning channels.

And then life got in the way.

First there was The Project (still ongoing, amazing, and unfortunately I can’t show you photos yet, but soon, I promise!), which is a full time job in and of itself.  Plus I have proper work to keep doing – life goes on and the money must come in.

Then, I got a weird virus that is basically Mini-Mono / Glandu-Lite fever (depending on whether you speak Americanese or Kiwish). My MIL had it, Mr D had it, half a dozen friends had it, and it is weird and awful. First you feel tired and run down for 2-3 weeks, with scattered days of thinking you are coming down with a cold or the flu.  Then you have three days of low fever and feeling like you are going to have the worst cold/flu you’ve ever experienced. But it never quite happens. Then you have another 2-3 weeks of feeling extremely run down with scattered episodes of low fevers, impending-flu-ness, and exhaustion. I’m still in the 3 week not-quite-recovery period, and it’s completely destroyed my schedule. I’m so far behind on everything.

Then, to top it all of, I lost half my Mariana Victoria bodice. The two back pieces with lacing holes part worked? No idea where they are. A thorough search of my sewing stuff hasn’t revealed them either. So the project is on unplanned, enforced hold until I can locate them!

So, way behind on the bodice challenge, but determined to submit something for it, I ran across another PHd (Project Half Done) while doing my Mariana Victoria bodice location rummage.

The PHd was an 18th century waistcoat I started for Mr D back in 2009, when I made the Lady Anne Darcy dress. I’d finished the outside of the waistcoat, got the lining part done and all pinned in, and then abandoned it when it wasn’t completed in time for the event, and there was no longer a pressing reason to make it.

18th century mans waistcoat thedreamstress.com

But I now had a pressing reason to make something bodice-ish, and any PhD that can become a PFF (Project Finally Finished) is a triumph. Besides, there was only that tiny bit of lining to sew it, it would only take me an hour or two, right? (famous last words).

18th century mans waistcoat thedreamstress.com

The photos above are actually a couple of hours into my picking it up and working on it again. I forgot to take ‘before I did anything to the PhD’ photos. It turns out that sewing the lining in was really tricky, because I used some extremely strange construction techniques when I started this thing. I’m not sure where on earth I got them from: they aren’t modern, and they aren’t historical, and they made it very hard to put together!

But I persevered, pinning and pickstitching and unpicking and re-sewing bits.

Felicity helped:

18th century man's waistcoat thedreamstress.com

And then, finally, it was done:

18th century mans waistcoat thedreamstress.com

It has some serious problems, but I’m still rather pleased with it.

18th century waistcoat thedreamstress.com
The serious problems include the extremely peculiar construction, the fact that it has never actually been tried on a real man’s body (who know if it will fit Mr D or not), the pattern/cut, and the materials used. In other words, most of it.

I think I used the pattern from Costume Close up for this waistcoat, but looking at it now, I think I must have made up a lot of the pattern – it doesn’t really match anything period.

18th century waistcoat thedreamstress.com

The outer is made from matelasse, the same fabric I used for the petticoat I wear with the Lady Anne Darcy dress. I have a vague memory of seeing one example of a quilted or matelasse men’s waistcoat, but I had a thorough search of 18th century sources and couldn’t find it, so perhaps I’m remembering wrong. In any case, it is very unlikely to have had a back and front both of the same fabric.

18th century waistcoat thedreamstress.com

My waistcoat is fully lined in a cotton check. Vaguely plausible, but not likely for a 1760s waistcoat.

And my buttons, while they do a reasonable job of looking like late 18th century waistcoat buttons, do not look like mid-18th century waistcoat buttons (and the rest of the waistcoat is mid-18th century in cut – or closest to mid 18th century). Oh, and they are plastic.  Very plastic!

18th century waistcoat thedreamstress.com

And my buttonholes are machine sewn, since there was no point in spending the hour-per-buttonhole it would have taken me to work them by hand on such an odd garment.

18th century waistcoat thedreamstress.com

Now, for the good news. The waistcoat does more-or-less fit me in stays, and I do have a matching petticoat, so it has potential as a really-not-historical foundation to an 18th century steampunk riding habit for me, should I ever need such a thing.

And for years I thought the matelasse fabric was synthetic, but I did a burn test of a scrap of it, and it turns out it’s a silk cotton blend. Happiness! So while that still isn’t a period fabric, it does make me feel much better about both the waistcoat and the petticoat of it.

The best news of all, of course, is simply that it is done, and I’ve completed something for the challenge!

The Challenge:  #5 Bodice

Fabric: 1ish metre of silk-cotton matelasse, 1ish metre of cotton, both purchased 5+ years ago, and I can’t remember what they cost, so free.

Pattern: I think I used a waistcoat pattern from Costume Close Up as my basis

Year: vaguely 1760s.

Notions: Thread, vintage plastic buttons.

How historically accurate is it?  Not accurate fabric (because natural fibres still aren’t accurate if they are not the right kind of fabric, in the right weave, used for the types of garments they would have been used for in-period), not accurate cut, not based on period examples, 1/2 machine sewn, 1/2 hand sewn, not accurate notions.  Let’s face it, it’s a costume:  20% if I’m generous.

Hours to complete: 7.

First worn: Not yet, but I think I will do that 18th century steampunk photoshoot someday, so at least it will be worn once!

Total cost: $0

18th century waistcoat thedreamstress.com

Rate the Dress: Revealing Regency

Last week’s Charles James Surrealist frock elicited some strong feelings from you raters.  Some of you adored it, some of you hated it, and some of you adored some bits and hated others.  The pleated front was particularly divisive: half of you were fans of the mastery of fabric manipulation, the other half of you thought it was a scary alien fabric explosion.  Whether you liked it or not, James’ green frock was memorable, but came it at a rather bland 7.6 out of 10, which is what happens if you balance a bunch of raving 10s with a few ‘eww’ 3s!

One of the things that many of you commented on with the green frock was how terrible the mannequin was, and how much that affected your perception of the dress.  With that in mind, I’ve picked a frock that may win the award for worst mannequin styling photo ever:

I’m pretty sure that comes straight out of a Dr Who episode…

Luckily, there are better images of the dress!  And oh boy, for an era which is known for being white and demure, is this dress ever va-va-voom!

Check out that neckline!

And it plunges in back too:

I’ll let you discuss whether you think it would have been worn with all that skin on display (and presumably without a support garment, because there is simply nowhere for one to go!), or with some sort of modesty under-dress or chemisette.

The daring silhouette is balanced by delicate details and elaborately embroidery.

Those metallic motifs do look suspiciously like lips though…

What do you think?  Previous white Regency frocks have been dismissed as overly sweet or frumpy, or just flat out boring.  This one is more likely to be criticised for being overly sexy and provocative, and maybe a little too exciting.

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10