Latest Posts

Rococo undergarments & Rococo art

Published by The Dreamstress

My Dr Sketchy talk is themed around how artists were inspired by undergarments.  I’m starting with the 18th century and rococo undergarments.

Of course, 18th century undergarments aren’t technically undergarments, since chemises, stays and petticoats could all be worn as outerwear!

So the artworks that I am being inspired by to stage my tableaux for the talk includes both intimate boudoir scenes with real underwear and genre scenes with romanticised peasant women in stays and petticoats.

First intimate boudoir scenes, as epitomised by Boucher’s La Toilette:

Francoise Boucher, La Toilete, 1742

Ooh!  Stockings!  And frilly petticoats!  And bed jackets, and maybe a hint of stays.  And sexy slippers!

On a much naughtier note, we have Pater’s “Mme. de Bouvillon Tempts Fate by Asking Ragotin to Search for a Flea” (which has got to be the best name for a painting ever, and must be a reference to something)

Jean-Baptiste Pater, Mme. de Bouvillon Tempts Fate by Asking Ragotin to Search for a Flea

Mme. de Bouvillon appears to have opened her robe to reveal her jumps, which are barely containing her bounty.  Oh dear!

The genre scenes are a little sweeter and less saucy:

François Boucher,Young Country Girl Dancing, Art Gallery of Ontario

Boucher’s dancing peasant girl is improbably pretty, clean, and prettily dressed.  I love how her petticoat shows beneath her skirt, and all the bows on her stays.

Elisabeth Vigee Le Brun (attributed), Peasant Girl

Vigee Le Brun’s peasant girl is even more romanticised than Bouchers.  I love her front lacing stays and the off the shoulder chemise.  Besides, the red petticoat is so lovely and vivid.

Watteau also painted dancing peasants in stay bodices:

Antoine Watteau, La Danse Champetre

The one in the red stays appears to have attached sleeves, and once again she has the all important apron.

Even Fragonard, the master of elegantly overdressed women, painted a mother in very unstructured stays:

Fragonard, The Good Mother

Cording is evil (#3)

Published by The Dreamstress

Cording is evil.

After pintucks, and the Briar Rose Corset, cording makes #3 evilness.

I’m making an 1890s corded corset.  It’s based on a pattern in Jill Salen’s Corsets: Historical Patterns and Techniques.

The pattern is kinda weird and insane.  Look at my pattern pieces:

1890s corded corset pattern

Starting from the centre back on the right, it looks totally normal.  Basic princess seam, basic side back princess seam, basic side front princess seam, and then you have your….what the heck is that!?!

The front piece with bust insets

That, dear readers, is the front piece, with a set in bust.

The problem with the set in bust is that 1) it gets set into a 3.5cm opening in the front piece (and I don’t know if you have ever measured one breast, but mine isn’t 3.5cm across!), 2) the original corset was sized for someone very short, with a very large cup size, so needed a lot of resizing, 3), resizing bust cups is horrible and tricky and 4)  once you have figured out all the fitting issues, actually setting in a double bust inset isn’t easy.

This is what the set in bust looks like when it is done. Weird aye?

But before I get to the setting in the bust bit, I had to sew the aforementioned evil cording.

But first I should tell you about fabric.

I’m using a gorgeous black silk satin recycled from an obi for the outer of my corset, a dark pink vintage cotton for my lining, and obi lining cotton for the interior support.

The recycled obi silk satin - such amazing quality silk!

The interior cotton, and the dark pink lining

I sewed my cording between the black silk and the stiff obi cotton.

Basically every single piece of the corset excepting the front piece is fully corded.  That’s a LOT of cording.  My corset is corrugated.

Corrugated corseting

To sew the cording, I marked the centre cording line in each pattern piece with chalk, and then sewed a line of stitching along that line.  Then I used the zipper foot to sew a cord snuggly up against the line of stitching to start my cording.

Sewing down a line of cording with the zipper foot

Additional lines of cording get smashed up against the started cording line.  I would maneuver the fabric with my left hand, and use my right index fingernail to push the cord up against the stitching and press in a crease to sew along, keeping the cording nice and tight and even.

Pushing the cord up against its fellows with my fingernail

And every three cording lines or so I would sigh and come up with a new creative not-actually-a-swear word and wonder why I did this to myself.

But for all that evilness, the corset is almost done, so I’ll show you more progress pictures in just a day or two!

The 18th century man’s jacket: finishing details

Published by The Dreamstress

With all the patterning, construction and fitting of the 18th century jacket done, I could now do the finishing touches.

Or more accurately, I could send out a panicked call to a few friends who owed me favours, and get them to do a bunch of the finishing touches for me.  This was the week before the Grandeur & Frivolity talk, and I was a just a little overwhelmed and busy.

I sewed the neckband on myself, and did all the buttonholes too.

The collar and buttonholes

They are machine done for now, but I will probably do them over by hand at some point.  You’ll notice that they aren’t actually opened: this seems to be the case on most 18th century jackets (at least for all but the top few buttonholes).

The reverse of the unopened buttonholes

Darling Shell sewed on all the buttons.  She didn’t hide the threads between the layers as I probably would have done, but I’m not sure which is historical.  Anyone seen a actual 18th c jacket and how the buttons were sewn on?  And am I the only one insane enough to be interested in stuff like exactly what is the proper historical way to sew on buttons?

The back of the buttons

Shell sewed all the buttons down the front, and the ones on the top of the pleats.  That’s a lot of buttons.

Buttons at the top of the pleat openings.

I tacked down the pleats from the back so that they hung properly.  There is still some raw fabric showing, and I’m not sure how to finish that nicely.  Is this how it’s supposed to be done?  Did I cut the jacket properly?  What is the correct way to finish the top of jacket pleats? Lauren I’m looking at you!

My messy-raw, tops of the pleats

Finally, the false pocket flaps got sewed on.  I was so busy at this point I really can’t remember who did the sewing.  Was it me or someone else!?!

I didn’t measure the flap positions: I just eyed where they went, pinned the flaps on and basted them on.  You can see the basting stitches show through the lining.

The stitching line for the pockets (and another look at sewn-down pleats tops)

I may go back and make these real pockets in the future, but for now the faux pocket flaps do the job.

Whether or not to make real pockets is still up in the air, but the one thing I definitely do want to do is to bind the edges of the armholes so that they aren’t raw.

Must be finished prettily!

First I want to try the jacket on a few more men, to make sure that it will fit a range of models if the amazing Daniil isn’t available.