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Giving thanks for the best thing a girl could ever have

I have the loveliest friends.  I really do.

This post is my shout-out to all my amazing friends – the ones who have been there for the best of times, and the worst of times.  The ones who listen, who laugh, who show up to help with frantic last minute sewing, who model for me, who photograph me modelling, who share ideas and information.  This is for friends online, and in real life.

To all of you who read, and comment, and interact with this blog.  Thank you for making me feel connected, and for sharing information and enthusiasm.  Seeing what you have said overnight makes getting up that much more exciting.  I’ve learnt so much from you, and you’ve been so generous with your time, support, and sometimes even sewing things you thought I’d find useful (my roses are just starting to bloom Elise, I can’t wait to fill the silver flower holder!).  I’d love to meet every one of you in person!

To my sewing friends – Mrs C, Madame O, Joie de Vivre, Sarah, Shell, Emily, Elisabeth – you do so much more than sew, and thank you for every single one of those things.  Thank you especially for all the times when you have sat on my couch (or your couch, or in Made on Marion) drinking endless cups of tea as you helped me sew on endless hooks and eyes and desperately finish things for a talk.  I’ve been looking at pictures of my Fruitbat bustle, and realising that really, I barely made that bustle – one of you cut those pleats (I think it was Joy), one of you hemmed them (I think it was Emily), another friend pinned the pleats on to the bustle, and yet another person sewed them down.  I lost track, but I haven’t forgotten how much I appreciated it!

To my models, you beautiful women (and the occasional man) – the glorious Blonde Venus, Julia of the Perfect Victorian Figure, darling Jane, elegant Tanja, marvelous Maz, tiny, beautiful Megan, the fabulous Racheal and Rachels, glamourous Claire, Julie the demure rocker, Brittany and Manita, glowing in yellow, always a gentleman Daniil, pretty much every one of my sewing friends above, many more gorgeous women I haven’t mentioned, and the new models who are going to start their modelling career on Sunday.  You are all so lovely, and have been such a joy.  Thank you for looking wonderful in my things, and for being wonderful in the dressing room and onstage!

To students at sewing classes and at uni – I learn as much from you as you do from me.  Thank you for your interest and enthusiasm, and for when you become friends, not just students.  I love it when I see a name on the class register (Claire!) and know it’s going to be a wonderful class, and I love seeing new names on a register, and knowing I’ll be meeting new amazing people.

To my photographer friends, another shout-out to Sarah and Shell and Madame O, and also to Theresa, model and photographer incomparable (please say we’ll do another photoshoot in Feb!).  Thank you for making me feel beautiful, and for all the photoshoot fun.

And finally, this is my thank you to Chiara, who has been all of the above, and more.  You’re everything I want to be, every day.  You’re the best model I could ever have.  Thank you.

If I missed you, I apologise – there are so many of you who have made my life amazing.  Thank you.

Terminology: What is scroop?

This week I thought I would do a fun little terminology post, and when your term is scroop, there is no way you can’t have fun!

What is scroop?  Scroop is the sound that taffeta makes.

Really.

Yes, it is an actual, proper, technical textile term (not like all those costuming collective nouns that we came up with).

Both silk and rayon taffetas (and some other silk and rayon fabrics) can have scroop, but it’s not caused by the weave, or the quality of the fabric.  Scroop is added with a special acid treatment, which hardens the filament yarns that the fabric  is woven from, making them rustle more.

An early article on synthetic silk (rayon) mentions that it is shinier than real silk, but that its scroop is less.

1760s petticoat thedreamstress.com

1760s petticoat thedreamstress.com

1760s petticoat thedreamstress.com

Scroop has an equally  awesome synonym:  froufrou  (though since the 1950s people have begun to use it to mean frilly, rather than rustle-y, leading to a shift in the meaning).

(bonus awesome  thing – there was a British peer names Scroop Egerton, he was the Viscount of Brackley and then the Earl of Bridgewater)

Sources:

Cant, Jennifer and Fritz, Anne,  Consumer Textiles.  Melbourne: Oxford University Press.  1988

Online Encyclopedia Britannica

Rate the Dress: Marie Christine of Austria in somewhat less pink

What to say about last week’s dress….oh dear.  Not a lot of love from most of you.  So much to complain about…colour, textures, silhouette, and that pectoral fin.  Mostly colour though.  Some enterprising viewers noted that if you were colourblind, the chartreuse and pale pink looked lovely together, and wondered if the wearer/maker had been colourblind.  Personally I rather liked the colours – they are so unexpected, and the Victorians did love to play with wild colour schemes.  I will agree that the dress had other issues, so despite the few people who really loved it, I’m not surprised that the final rating was a 3.4 out of 10

Since so many of you had problems with the colour, let’s tone the palette down in this weeks ‘Rate the Dress’.

The last time we looked at Marie Antoinette’s sister Marie Christine she was wearing pink, and lots of it.  You called her a ‘blinged out sheep’ with an 18th century mullet’, and still managed to give her a 6.5 out of 10.

Today her ensemble is considerably more subdued, as befits an outfit worn to spin thread.  She is a princess though, so she wasn’t restrained enough to leave off her trademark OTT jewellery.

Self-portrait of the Archduchess Marie Christine of Austria (1742-1798), daughter of Franz I and Maria Theresia, spouse of Albert, Prince of Saxony (1738-1822), circa 1765

Do you like her palest-grey gown, with muted blue bows and practical black apron?  What about the lace fichu, lace bonnet, and triple-pearl earrings?  Has she managed to combine industrious housewife with glamourous princess, or does Marie Christine just lack any semblance of fashion sense?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10