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Finished project: an utterly adorable 1930s playsuit

A client contacted me to make a playsuit from a late 1930s pattern she owns.

New York Patterns 1040

After we looked at lots of modern fabrics without finding anything inspiring I suggested an early-mid 20th century style print, and she picked an adorable bows & flowers print in grey and yellow from Reproduction Fabrics.

I’m a huge fan of the yellow (so exciting to have a client who loves it too), and the print and colours are the perfect mix of pre-war innocence while still being fresh and modern.

The playsuit

To relieve the rather busy print, I used custom made white piping with a very subtle woven-in stripe, and graphite-grey buttons.  I think this was particularly important on the front of the skirt, where I did a piping-bordered placket.

Buttons and piping on the skirt placket

Isn’t the halter back of the playsuit clever?  How it combines with the side-fastening of the connected shorts so that you can get in and out easily?

The rather revealing, and very clever, playsuit back

And the halter is so unexpected: we don’t usually think of them featuring in fashion that early.

The fastening at the back of the halter neck

To keep the halter modest, and for ‘less active play’ as the magazines of the time called it, there is a skirt to go over the shorts.

The overskirt

Inside both garments, I finished all the seams with French seaming, and completely lined the halter bodice in the same white voile with woven in stripe as the piping. The hems are done with a machine blind-hem stitch.

French seams and blind hem on the skirt

I just love it when the insides of garments are almost as beautiful as the outside.  It’s like a personal present that only you know about.

Two little bundles of happiness

I’m pleased to say that S. loves it, and it fit her perfectly (another feather to add to my ‘I did this without ever meeting the client’ cap), and hopefully we will see photos of her in it.

UPDATE:  Now with photos!

A wedding dress to die for

Mrs C is doing the costuming for a new musical, ‘Lonely Hearts’, which is based on Raymond Fernandez & Martha Beck, the original Lonely Hearts serial killers from the late 1940s/early 50s.

The costuming is all being designed and sewn with as much historical accuracy as you can aspire to within the confines of the theatre (quick changes, actors playing multiple rolls etc.).  I lent Mrs C all my 40s patterns and my mid-century fashion books and she’s been calling me up and asking about covered buckles and zips (yep, totally accurate for the 40s).  And she asked if I would be able to help with the sewing – so I said I would do the wedding dress.

I’m using one of Grandma’s 1940s patterns:

Simplicity 4215 ca. 1947

Isn’t it gorgeous?  Perfect early late 40s/early 50s styling with that sweetheart neckline and princess seamed front!  The pattern still has my Grandmother’s alterations, so I know she made it up.

I’m making it with longish sleeves, and in waltz length.

Simplicity 4215 ca. 1947, pattern reverse

The actress who will be wearing it isn’t a 30″ bust, so I’m having to resize it just a bit.

Simplicity 4215 ca. 1947, pattern instructions

Want to see the fabric?

Brace yourself.

Ta da:

Polyester damask tableclothing

Yes, that is totally polyester tablecloth damask.  It’s actually very pretty sewn up, and perfect for on stage, where you really want something with shine and texture and much less subtlety than I usually go in for.  I think it was a brilliant idea of Mrs C’s considering how slim the costuming budget (nonexistent) and how often the dress will need to be washed.

I still teased her and told her it was the most dreadful fabric I had ever worked with.  I hope she still loves me!

Lonely Hearts opens next Tue, the 17th, at Bats Theatre (yes, the one Peter Jackson just spent a bunch of money saving).  And if you really love musical theatre you can come to a special fundraising preview Sunday the 15th to hear a few songs from the show, a few other pieces and (I think) even Mrs C, who is a pretty amazing singer in her own right.

Terminology: What is astrakhan?

Astrakhan (also spelled astrachan) is, properly speaking, the tightly curled fleece of the fetal or newborn karakul (also spelled caracul) lamb.  Less accurately, it can also refer to the fleece of fetal or newborn lambs from other species, or a knitted or woven fabric that imitates the looped surface.

Astrakhan has a distinctive tight, whorled, loopy surface with a slight sheen.  The younger the lamb, the tighter and shinier the loops.  True astrakhan comes in a range of colours from pale golden yellow to black, though black is the most desirable.

Evening Cape of silk ruched to imitate astrakhan, Lanvin, Jeanne, Winter 1935 V&A

This may be the part where you are thinking “fetal or…wait, what!?!”.

Yes, the most desirable form of astrakhan is that from a lamb 15-30 days away from being born, and it is sourced by killing both the ewe and the unborn lamb.  Horrific.

There are other ways to source astrakhan: either by waiting for the lamb to be born, or by utilizing the pelts of lambs that are born dead (beware that some companies selling lamb-ewe fetal kill astrakhan describe it as ‘stillborn’ – a euphemism if I ever heard one!), or die shortly after birth in adverse weather conditions.

The last two options, stillborn lambs and ones that died within their first few days, are probably how astrakhan first became used: peasants sought to wring any value that they could from a dead animal.

It’s no surprise that there were enough lamb mortalities to start a fashion for the pelts of Karkul sheep.  The sheep are from the high mountainous regions in Central Asia, an area with very severe and unpredictable weather which would easily contribute to a high lamb die-off.

Astrakhan (the Russian name) is also known as broadtail, Persian lamb, Karkul lamb, karakulcha,    krimmer (another Russian term), agnello di Persia (an Italian term also used by posh fashion magazines trying to be..well…posh),  breitschwanz (German, used by somewhat less posh fashion magazines),  garaköli bagana (in Central Asia), slink  or slinky (usually used for generic newborn lamb fleece, not that of the Karakul sheep), and finally, swakara (for ‘South West African Karakul’)  if it comes from Namibia, where a population of the sheep was introduced in the early 20th century.  There is no standard as to whether most of the names should be capitalized or not.

The name used for astrakhan can differentiate between how the fur is sourced (newborn vs. fetal), but there is no international standard for most of the usages, so the name is usually not a guarantee of the type of fur you are getting.  The  U.S. Fur Products Labeling Act (16 C.F.R. Part 301)  for example, designates broadtail as specifically fetal, while a New Zealand company emphasizes that its broadtail is exclusively from natural lamb casualties.

The use of astrakhan dates back centuries in Central Asia and the Middle East, where it was used in traditional garments and gave its name to the Karkul hat.

Hat, wool & silk with metal embroidery and astrakhan lining, Iran, 1820-1880, V&A

Bowl featuring a man wearing an astrakhan hat, ca. 1800-1830, Shiraz Persia (Iran), V&A

Astrakhan has always been a luxurious fur: far more pricey than most sheepskins.  When the Shah of Persia was crowned in 1914 they used an astrakhan hat when the official crown was too heavy, and a few years later Warren G. Harding’s wife, the First Lady of the US, purchased an astrakhan coat for the phenomenal price of 6000 GBP (and this at the same time that the Hartnell wedding dress cost just 53GBP!)

While astrakhan fur probably made it into Western fashion at numerous points in history, the earliest uses of the term ‘astrakhan’ (or variations on the spelling) in Western fashion that I am aware of are in the 19th century.  ZhoZho found a Regency fashion plate featuring ‘astracan’ fur, though if the fur featured in the plate is astrakhan, it is a very rare white variety.

From Rudolph Ackerman’s The Repository of Arts, Literature, Fashions, Manufacturers, &c. Hand-coloured etching on paper. Vol. 5, Feb. 1, 1811, via ZhoZho

The Victorians loved Astrakhan.  Its dark, heavy, glossy, ornate surface fitted perfectly with ornate aesthetic in the late 1860s and 70s, and the heavy, fashions at the end of the 19th century.

Page 7 Advertisements Column 4 Daily Southern Cross, Volume XXIII, Issue 3070, 20 May 1867, Page 7

 In the 1860s the notorious Countess de Castiglione posed for a whole series of photographs in a paletot covered in astrakhan.

Le Caracul (L’Astrakhan) Pierre-Louis Pierson (French, 1822—1913) 1860s, Albumen silver print from glass negative, 1975.548.154, Met

Astrakhan was popular    as collars and trimming, as well as full jackets and coats (if you could afford them!)  from 1890 to 1908.

‘Lanpher Furs, North Star Brand. Lanpher, Skinner & Co., St. Paul, Minn. Season 1906-7. 72 pages, page 5, via Wikimedia Commons

Astrakhan was universally popular for the first half of the beginning of the 20th century.  The Edwardians loved it, it was all the rage again in  1916-19, and, along with all forms of lamb fur, and (lets face it, pretty much all fur). It was popular again at the end of the 1920s, and then again throughout the 1930s, where it particularly appeared in hats, the new trend for sport wear, and the Russian military-inspired fashions, particularly paired with the Cossack hat.

A very new caped coat in black cloth, velvet, or crepe, with shawl collar and cuffs of black astrakhan. Evening Post, 1 December 1928

Despite its 19th century popularity, it doesn’t seem that attempts were made to cultivate Karakul lambs outside of Central Asia until the early 20th century, when  a flock was established in the US, and  a group was brought to Argentina.  Ten years later, in the 1920s,  a population was established in Canada, and  one in Texas, and one in Libya, which  quickly became profitable.  To the best of my knowledge the Libyan sheep are the only ones that are still being farmed commercially.

Astrakhan and possom fur coat, 1920s

Astrakhan has experienced resurges in popularity throughout the 2nd half of the 20th century, and has appeared on catwalks within the last few years, despite the overall decline in popularity in fur, and (obvious)  arguments against it.

The ethical arguments for and against astrakhan aren’t new.  A 1905 article explains how the mother and baby are both killed to source the fur, but claims that as the meat is eaten, it is not inhumane.  Unfortunately it appears that today most commercial astrakhan is raised and killed almost exclusively for the fur.

Despite my acceptance of vintage fur, and the availability of ethically (natural death) sourced slink astrakhan in New Zealand, I just can’t bring myself to wear it in any form.  The whole concept is too awful and inhumane.  I know that it is illogical, it’s the ‘Bambi’ effect, and doesn’t ‘match’ with my other garment choices, but that doesn’t change my reaction.  Sometimes people aren’t logical: that’s what makes us human.

Sources:

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

The Humane Society,  Investigation: Karakul Sheep and Lamb Slaughter for the Fur Trade, Updated October 24 2009

And a huge thank you to all the commenters on yesterday’s post with your links to slink skin sellers in NZ!