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Terminology: What is chinchilla

Published by The Dreamstress

I’m not much for fur, but chinchilla has always fascinated me.  I think it is the name.  It’s just so darn cute!  It sounds like a name Disney would invent for an animal.

I’m never really thought about what a chinchilla actually was until recently.  When I did begin to wonder, I had to look it up.

The chinchilla is a rodent from South America.  It looks like this:

Chinchilla via Wikimedia Commons

OH.MY.GOODNESS

Squeee!

Cute overload.

It’s a fat little mouse with extra big ears and a squirrel tail!

Awwwwwwwwwwwwwww!

I think they were invented by Disney!

Really, could you get any cuter if you tried?

I think we need to see more cuteness:

Chinchilla mom and baby via Fanpop

Awwwwwwwwwww!

Of course, in fashion they aren’t concerned with how gosh darn cute the fat little mice with big ears and fluffy squirrel tails are.  They are concerned with how soft and dense the fur is, because they kill and skin those gosh darn cute fat little big-eared, fluffy-tailed mice for it.

Natural chinchilla fur is pale grey with a dark streak running along the tail, and incredibly soft and plush, because each hair follicle sprouts an average of 8 hairs.  It is so soft and dense that chinchillas should not get wet – their thick hair traps the moisture, and they develop mold and skin rot.

Accessory Set Princeton Process, Inc. Manufacturer- The Brothers Christie Fur Corp.,1974, chinchilla fur, Metropolitan Museum of Art

The fur is so lovely that 16th century Spanish explorers in South America immediately noted the possibilities of the fur and started the fashion for it.  Chinchilla went in and out of fashion over the next three centuries, and saw its greatest craze in the 2nd half of the 19th century, where cloaks and mantles were lavishly lined and trimmed in it.

The Countess de Castiglione by Pierre-Louis Pierson, 1862—67, Metropolitan Museum of Art "The Countess is shown here dressed in the latest fashion for the winter season of 1862-3. She wears a coatdress of lilac velvet, edged in red velvet cut into dents and a cloak edged with chinchilla. Her white bonnet is tied with red and white double strings, and she holds a chinchilla muff."

It was so popular that over-hunting caused the extinction of one species of chinchilla and the other species were both very rare by the end of the Victorian era.  Chinchilla were so rare that the death of the only known chinchilla in North America in 1908 made international news.

A Chinchilla and Sable Toque, Auckland Star, 13 June 1896, Via Papers Past

The rarity led to the early 20th century development of the Chinchilla rabbit in France as a cheaper, more widely available, imitation chinchilla fur.  It also had the benefit of being a meat species.  The chinchilla rabbit, combined with the scarcity of the chinchilla, led to a rapid drop in the export of chinchilla fur from South America – 20,000 furs were exported from Chile in 1900, only 150 in 1925.

The drop in chinchilla exports certainly wasn’t because chinchilla was no longer fashionable.  1925 saw another peak in the chinchilla craze, with those who could afford it draping themselves in loose coats trimmed in chinchilla fur.

Evening coat of ermine with chinchilla trim by Jay-Thorpe, Inc., ca. 1925, American, Metropolitan Museum of Art

Notice how the coat above is ermine trimmed in chinchilla?  That’s because real chinchilla was the most expensive and exclusive fur available in the 1930s.    Those who had less resources had to content themselves with chinchilla rabbit.   It wasn’t until 1929 that the popularity of chinchilla, real and rabbit (and all other furs) declined slightly.  It’s return was hailed periodically throughout the 1930s as a sign that the depression was over, but both the end of economic hard times, and the return of chinchilla, were wishful thinking on the part of fashion editors.

Auckland Evening Post, 3 January 1925, Coat with collar and cuffs in Chinchilla

Today it is illegal to hunt wild chinchilla, and chinchilla fur for the fashion industry is farmed.  The popularity of chinchilla has been in steady decline since 1930.  There was a brief revival in the 1970s, but people have been less inclined to wear fur in general.  Today chinchillas are often pets rather than fashion accessories.

Woman's coat of wool paisley shawl and chinchilla fur, Designed by Arnold Scaasi, 1972, MFA Boston

Anyone ever had a chinchilla or interacted with one as a pet?  What are they like?

Sources:

O’Hara, Georgina,  The Encyclopedia of Fashion: From 1840 to the 1980s.  London: Thames and Hudson Ltd.  1986

Open sewing*

Published by The Dreamstress

Do you ever get stuck with your sewing?

Just get to a place where you can’t figure out how to set in those sleeves, or why the waist just won’t sit right, or how to do bound buttonholes or a side zip?

Or you’re trying to turn a design into a reality, and can’t figure out how many gores the skirt should have (or should you cut it as a circle?), or if the jacket needs flat lining or not, or if it will work in a tissue, or if you really should buy a crepe chiffon after all?

I do this all the time.  It used to be about not knowing the techniques, but now it’s about knowing too much – getting stuck in my head because there are so many options.

The Waterlily dress, circa 2002

The solution to this is a sewing community.  These days I am indebted to you, dear readers, to local sewing friends like Mrs C and the Baha’i seamstresses, to the fashion experts at Massey university, and to wider sewing-blogging friends like Steph.  They let me bounce ideas off them, and bounce ideas in return, and we share tips and tricks and all learn from each other.  And that’s fabulous.

Most often though, I still go back to my original sewing resources – to the amazing drapers and tailors and seamstresses that all worked, at one time or another, in a little costume shop in Oakland California, and to the wonderful sewers and textile lovers I grew up with in Hawaii.

Mid-Victorian capes & jackets & bonnets, 2004

I was so privileged with my early sewing, and my ‘real’ in-depth training during university, to have such a great group of people to draw on, and to teach me.  I think the most important thing that shaped my sewing, and my ability to create, is that I quickly got to move beyond basic classes to doing my own thing. I got to work on whatever I was interested in, but every time I got stuck, there was someone there to look at it, to make suggestions, to provide resources and inspiration.

That, really, is what has made me as a seamstress, and has given me the confidence to try things, to go way beyond basic patterns and sewing standards.  And that’s fabulous.

The 'Gilded Lily', circa 2004

I think this sort of training and support is so important.  It doesn’t matter what level your sewing is – having someone to help and teach you outside of a really formal sewing class is invaluable.

This is why I’m offering ‘Open Sewing‘ as one of my sessions at Made Marion.

It’s a time for any sewer, of any level, to have me at their disposal for whatever project they are working on.

I’m hoping for absolute beginners who just want to learn at their own pace, and with the patterns and ideas that interest them most, for very advanced sewers working on elaborate tailored jackets, for crazy costumers doing historical garments and fantastical engineered things.  It gives me a space to teach things that there isn’t enough demand for to do an entire class on, but which someone wants to learn.

What do you think?  How did you learn to sew?  Formal classes?  A family member?  Self taught from books and the internet?  How did you make the jump from set patterns and simply following instructions to making whatever you could imagine?  Are you still waiting to take that jump?

And (most exciting of all!), have some of you already lined up the projects you are bringing to get me to help with?

'Marina' circa 2004

*this post is illustrated with photos of my early-ish sewing that are only tangentially related to the post, but which I thought you might find fun.

 

Rate the Dress – Vignon’s garland dress of 1878 or 79

Published by The Dreamstress

The ratings for last week’s 19teens party dress started out so well, and then the ratings plummeted.  The dress naysayers didn’t like the colour and the garland, and felt the dress was too youthful, and even those who liked the dress complained that it was too flat and hard to visualise on a person and had niggling doubts about the shape of the garland on the bodice.  Thanks to the first flush of approving comments, the dress came in at a 6.9 out of 10.

OK!  Point taken!  This week’s garment is fully three dimensional.  But….

…it still has a garland.  I thought I’d challenge your lei prejudice with another placement and treatment of the idea.

Dinner dress, Mon. Vignon, French, 1878-79, silk and cotton, Metropolitan Museum of Art

This dinner dress by Mon. Vignon from the Metropolitan Museum of Art combines restraint to the point of severity with a touch of delicate naturalism in the form of the embroidered garland that drapes down the bodice and wraps around the skirt.

Dinner dress, Mon. Vignon, French, 1878-79, silk and cotton, Metropolitan Museum of Art

What do you think?  Are garlands just a no go?  Is the contrast between the rest of the dress and the flowers too stark?

Dinner dress (detail), Mon. Vignon, French, 1878-9, silk and cotton, Metropolitan Museum of Art

What about the colours?  They are a far cry from the girlish pink that some found objectionable last week.  But has this dress swung too far the other way, and become boring and dark and restrained?

Dinner dress, Mon. Vignon, French, 1878-9, silk and cotton, Metropolitan Museum of Art

So, what do you think?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10.