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Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson, Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032

Rate the Dress: 1920s voided velvet

The last few Rate the Dresses have been quite subdued and muted in their colour scheme. That means it’s time for something bright! How about..orange? And velvet!

Last Week: an 1880s dress with embroidered cherries

I really wasn’t sure how people would feel about last week’s dress. It was so unlike most 1880s garments. Well…most of you loved it! And then some of you really, really didn’t like it, and thought it resembled a straitjacket, and looked ready to scold you. It would be the only cherry embroidered straitjacket to ever exist, that’s for sure! There was also a small group who thought it had definite possibilities, but needed accessories.

The Total: 8.5 out of 10

Just a fraction of a point up from the week before.

Can this week do better?

This week: a 1920s dress of voided velvet in vibrant orange

I felt that there was something a bit staid about last week’s dress, despite its perky pleats and cherry embroidery. This week’s dress, in contrast, is decidedly playful.

Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,  Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032
Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, silk velvet, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,
Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032

The dress is made of voided or ‘devore’ silk velvet in dark orange, with a border pattern of abstract roses and interlocking arches.

Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,  Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032
Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, silk velvet, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,
Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032

The velvet body of the dress is cut in a straight rectangle from shoulder to hip. It has long sleeves with very low, dropped armscyes, forming a ‘batwing’ effect.

Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,  Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032
Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, silk velvet, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,
Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032

The sleeves are made of a light silk chiffon in the same shade of orange as the velvet.

Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,  Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032
Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, silk velvet, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,
Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032

The same chiffon is used to form sashes which fall from a low half-belt which wraps across the back of the dress. The sashes are fastened to the belt with ornamental buckles made from an early form of plastic.

Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,  Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032
Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,
Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032

The sleeves and sashes add movement to the dress, creating shape and interest out of the otherwise straight rectangle.

Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,  Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032
Dress, 1927-1928, plastic, silk, Gift of Mrs. Herbert O. Johnson,
Goldstein Museum of Design 1981.033.032

The dress would originally have been worn with a slip underneath, likely in a matching orange, but possibly in a skin tone. At this date it’s unlikely the underdress would have been cut on the bias, so even in a skin tone it would have been as straight as the outer dress, and would not have revealed the body as the mannequin is revealed in these photos.

What do you think? How does this rank as a 20s frock?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A reminder about rating — feel free to be critical if you don’t like a thing, but make sure that your comments aren’t actually insulting to those who do like a garment.  Phrase criticism as your opinion, rather than a flat fact. Our different tastes are what make Rate the Dress so interesting.  It’s no fun when a comment implies that anyone who doesn’t agree with it, or who would wear a garment, is totally lacking in taste. 

As usual, nothing more complicated than a .5.  I also hugely appreciate it if you only do one rating, and set it on a line at the very end of your comment.

Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com

Georgian Shenanigans in the Wairarapa

Five years ago on Labour Weekend Stella, Priscilla and I threw up our heels and scampered off to New Plymouth, to play with deer, and dress up in Edwardian costumes, and take lots of photos.

Quite a lot has happened since then: marriages, children, moves across the country, houses have been built and bought…and I started Scroop Patterns!

This year we decided that five years was far too long, and it was time we did it again – especially as New Zealand relaxed Covid restrictions just in time for us to plan.

So we booked a cute cottage out in the Wairarapa, and set out on three days of fun and friendship, and a well deserved break after a very stressful year. And dress ups and photos – if I could find the energy to organise that!

Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com

I was juuuuust about to finish my first Amalia Jacket toile (in fact, I finished it on this weekend), so decided on an 18th century theme.

I basically just threw everything that might fit either Stella or Priscilla and that was 18th c in my car.

The goal was just to have fun. Dress up, be ridiculous, enjoy each others company, take photos, that’s it. We didn’t worry about looking perfect, or being accurate.

Stella’s never worn my pet-en-laire, so she picked that.

Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com

Priscilla’s borrowed pretty much every costume of mine that might plausibly fit her at one point or another. She opted to mix things up with some menswear. It only took a couple of safety pins and a few basted seams to keep her in it!

Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com

My Edwardian tricorne was a trifle anachronistic, but fit the mood. I’d brought some shoe options too, but turns out Pricilla already had the perfect shoe match! (also, can we take a moment to appreciate her calves? They would be the envy of any 18th century gentleman!)

Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com

And me? I wore my just finished Amalia, the petticoat I made earlier in the year, and used it as an excuse to try styling that whole look.

I had intended to take us down around Lake Wairarapa for photos, but we took too long getting dressed, so we just enjoyed the yard and cottage.

But what a yard! Roses and hawthorns in bloom, nesting birds (we found at least 5 nests with baby birds), and spring at its best.

Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com

When we ran out of options in the backyard, we moved to the front.

Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com

And out to the road…

Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com

And finished up with the traditional terrible face photo!

Amalia Jacket and 18th century dress ups thedreamstress.com
Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons, John Bright Collection

Rate the Dress: Victorian Cherries

I wanted to present something nice and cozy for those of you in cold climates for this week’s Rate the Dress. Turns out the dress I chose is cotton, not wool, so it’s not quite as warm as I’d planned, though it certainly covers everything. Instead, it’s rather seasonal for us here in New Zealand, and you’ll see why shortly!

Last Week: a wedding dress in soft green from 1850

A very nice, if not completely ecstatic, reaction to last weeks dress. Many of you felt the wrapped thread buttons weren’t quite the right shade – but excused that on the likelihood the dress fabric had faded, and once matched them better. You weren’t quite so ready to excuse the sleeve trim, which you found oddly unfinished in comparison to the crisp pleating of the dress.

The Total: 8.4 out of 10

A rating to please everyone, but not to make people cry from the sheer beauty of the dress as it came down the aisle!

This week: an 1880s dress with embroidered cherries.

This early 1880s dress, in ivory cotton with embroidered cherries, is quite interesting.

Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons, John Bright Collection.jpg
Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons,
John Bright Collection

It’s unusually severe in its shape and trim, with no ornamentation but the deep pleated hem, and the bands of wool embroidery.

Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons, John Bright Collection
Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons,
John Bright Collection

The colour, simplicity of the dress, overall aesthetic and single patch pocket on the right hip suggest that this was a day dress for wearing around the home.

Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons, John Bright Collection
Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons,
John Bright Collection

It might have been worn with a collar, but the curators state that there is no evidence that it ever had any other trim.

Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons, John Bright Collection
Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons,
John Bright Collection

The extremely fitted shape of the dress is achieved through a centre front seam and double princess darts up the front, and double princess seams up the back. The dress opens up the back with 13 large mother-of-pearl buttons, preserving the unbroken lines of the front.

Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons, John Bright Collection
Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons,
John Bright Collection

The dress is made from the most interesting fabric: a heavy moss crepe weave which the John Bright collection identifies as cotton. It’s appears to be very similar to what we would now call barkcloth.

Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons, John Bright Collection
Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons,
John Bright Collection

The embroidery is done in wool, in shades of red, orange, green and rust. We’ve looked at other ca 1880 dresses decorated with vining embroidery motifs, like this one, on navy satin, and this one by Vignon. It was clearly a popular decorative idea at the time.

Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons, John Bright Collection
Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons,
John Bright Collection

While the overall theme of the trim is the same, this week’s dress is striking in a number of ways. The use of white fabric. The simplicity of the embroidery, with large, rustic stitches. The severity of the cut.

Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons, John Bright Collection
Dress, Circa 1880, Cotton embroidered with wool; mother of pearl buttons,
John Bright Collection

What do you think? Do you like this quirky take on natural-form era fashion?

Rate the Dress on a Scale of 1 to 10

A reminder about rating — feel free to be critical if you don’t like a thing, but make sure that your comments aren’t actually insulting to those who do like a garment.  Phrase criticism as your opinion, rather than a flat fact. Our different tastes are what make Rate the Dress so interesting.  It’s no fun when a comment implies that anyone who doesn’t agree with it, or who would wear a garment, is totally lacking in taste. 

As usual, nothing more complicated than a .5.  I also hugely appreciate it if you only do one rating, and set it on a line at the very end of your comment.