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The HSF Challenge #26: Celebrate

This is it sewers!  The theme for the final challenge of the year!  Get to this, and we’ve done it!

To celebrate our achievement, the theme for Challenge #26 (due 30 December) is Celebrate.  Make something that is celebration worthy, make something that celebrates the new skills you have learned this year, or just make something simple that celebrates the fact that you survived HSF ’13!

Multi-period costuming thedreamstress.com

The possibilities are pretty much limitless.  I have no idea what I’m going to make at this point (I can’t believe I’m posting about it actually) but I can’t wait to see what you make.

Rate the Dress: Winnaretta Singer in checks

I anticipated that some of you wouldn’t love the paisley patterned 1860s swiss bodice outfit I posted last week, but was completely unprepared for the levels of dislike, and for what you objected to.  I thought you might like the clean, graphic paisley shapes, in contrast to the usually fussy details associated with paisley, but instead you called them “black holes burnt in the skirt” and “amoebas” and “blobs”.  And if the paisley didn’t kill it for you, the swiss bodice did.  As a less-well endowed woman, I would achieve only the most modest swell above that style of swiss bodice in a corset, but many of you imagined the effect of a more boxom bust and were…distracted.  Though some of you did like it, it still only managed a 5.7 out of 10.

Since you objected to the overt girlishness of last weeks outfit, I thought I should post something a bit more reserved and masculine.

Winnaretta Singer, Princess de Polignac, 1918

Winnaretta Singer, Princess de Polignac, 1918

This is Winnaretta Singer, Princess de Polignac, daughter of Isaac Singer (of Singer Sewing Machines fame), one of the heirs to the Singer  fortune, arts and music partron, and (in the words of Wikipedia en español) ‘notorious lesbian.’  As a patron of the arts, Singer hosted one of the most famous salons in late 19th century Europe, and works by Debussey & Ravel were debuted at them.  She was also a philanthropist: assisting with public housing schemes, and supporting ambulances during WWI.  To top this off, she was a bit of a fashionista, and finally, she was not to be messed with.  One of her lover’s husbands once camped out outside her villa, shouting “If you are half the man I think you are you’ll come out and fight me.”

When I found this portrait of Singer, I was looking for an image of a woman with a muff, and the contrast between this and other photographs of women with muffs immediately stuck me.  The convention is for a woman to hold up her muff, and peer coquettishly over it.  Singer, on the other hand, holds it as casually as she holds her suitcase in the other hand, her sensibly clad feet in motion as she steps towards the photographer.  Her suit, with its striking check, balances the fashionable conventions of 1918 with a masculine twist in the shirtfront and bow collar.  Her light, feminine hat adds to the ambiguity and tension in the outfit.

What do you think?  Chic androgyny?  Typical late-teens frumpiness made worse with gender-blending?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.

18th century shoes at the Honolulu Museum of Art

I wish I had a finished garment to show you today – my hoopskirt, or the hinted at 1900s dress, but sewing is not going to plan, and I want to post about at least SOMETHING, and I thought, hey, a real antique textile is as good as anything I make, if not better!

I’ve shown you most of the textiles from the Honolulu Museum of Art, but here is one of the most exciting pieces I looked at: a pair of 18th century shoes in green and gold on ivory brocade:

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

Based on the large scale brocade, which is clearly early 18th century in date, the wider heel shape and slightly tilted toe, the shoes are probably early-mid-18th century.

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

The outer of the shoes are silk brocade, and they are lined in linen.  The green binding is herringbone twill, either in cotton or linen.  The shoes are (obviously) entirely hand sewn.  The heel is wood, covered in more of the brocade, and the sole is rather heavy leather.

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

The pointed toe appears to be supported by more leather, carved into the little tilted point.

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

The heavy leather sole has an interesting star shape stamped into it near the toe, and again near the heel.  I presume it had something to do with the construction, but couldn’t figure out exactly what.  Anyone else seen a similar thing?

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

The silk brocade of the shoes is pieced on the tongue, where it will be hidden by the flaps.  It may be to save fabric, but I think it is more intentional: to help with the shaping transition from the front of the shoe to the tongue, and possible to ensure a pretty placement of fabric pattern on the tongue, where it would be seen.

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

There was other piecing that is clearly to save fabric, or to repair the shoe after a bit of wear, though the lack of in-period wearing makes that seem unlikely.

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

The interiors have quite a bit of piecing, but it is all essential construction.  There is extra white kid leather in the heels, where the shoes will get more wear.

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

The shoes don’t appear to have had much wear, but they are still in quite aged, fragile condition.  The silk brocade is particularly brittle and friable, and has disintegrated entirely in places, which is sad from a condition viewpoint, but extremely helpful from a research viewpoint, because it allows us to see into the construction.  It may have been done to save

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

The shoe was so fascinating that I took TONS of photos of all the details, which I hope you will also find interesting.  I won’t bore you with a commentary on all the images, but do ask if you have any questions.

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

Mid-18th century shoes, collection of the Honolulu Museum of Art, thedreamstress.com

If you want to see more textiles from the HMA, I’ve posted about an early 19th century dress, an  amazing embroidered cisele velvet 18th century man’s suit, a  late 19th century Turkish tea robe that had been altered for wear by a Western woman, and  a teaser-taster of all the textiles.