The Dreamstress

This week’s Rate the Dress is very on-theme for the seasons here in New Zealand. Spring is in full swing, daffodils abound, and the first butterflies are out. So I’ve picked a frock with daffodils and butterflies, perfect for frolicking through meadows of blossoming bulbs. Maybe next week I’ll pick something very autumnal, for those of you in the Northern Hemisphere!

Last Week: a ca. 1880 afternoon ensemble

The ratings for last week’s dress were pretty clearly divided into three camps. Quite a lot of you thought the muted colours and single tonal range balanced the excessive details nicely, resulting in a good, but not great dress. And some of you thought that more is more is more is fabulous, and gave it a perfect (or nearly so) score. And then, there were those who thought the dress was just awful, resulting in an extremely unusual proportion of 3s and 4s!

The end result?

The Total: 6.9 out of 10

An average which accurately represents the opinion of exactly one of the raters!

This week: a 1920s child’s frock.

This week’s pick is very different to last week’s: a simple silhouette, with simple trim, and a simple, but unusual, mode of ornamentation.

This mid 1920s child’s ensemble is decorated with hand painted butterflies, daffodils, and a fairy riding a snail’s shell chariot.

In addition to the whimsical hand painting, which has echoes of Ida Rentoul Outhwaite’s fairies, the dress features ribbon trim held on with french knot embroidery.

The colour scheme and decoration are an excellent example of the merge between the aesthetic of the Arts & Crafts movement, and conventional design and fashion. While the fairy suggests Outhwaite, the daffodils suggest John Henry Dearle’s work for William Morris.

The outfit is most decidedly a luxury item: a decadent piece for parents to show off a beloved child at a garden party, carefully chaperoned and attended while the guests cooed over them, before they kid was given sensible clothes, a bit of ice cream, and allowed to go make mud pies on their own!

The FIDM blog (linked through each image) has more information on the dress, and the fad for hand painting in the ‘teens and ’20s.

What do you think? Is this so utterly adorable that its impracticality doesn’t matter, or is it terribly twee?

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, so I can find it!  And 0 is not on a scale of 1 to 10.  Thanks in advance!)

I honestly didn’t mean to repeat last week’s random button theme this week! I was a bit at a loss as to what to pick for Rate the Dress, and just went browsing. It wasn’t until I’d selected this dress, because I thought it was an interesting play in monochrome textures that I realised that it relies heavily on lots of button-ness for its decoration (and isn’t even monochrome – it’s patterned!). But it’s an interesting garment, so hopefully you’ll enjoy discussing and rating it.

Last Week: a 1910s suit with all the (button) trimmings

Quite a lot of you really liked last week’s suit (9/10 liked), but only a few of you loved it. And enough of you didn’t care for either the fabric, or the jacket closure, to pull the rating down just a little bit more.

The Total: 8.6 out of 10

Very nice, but not spectacular.

This week: 

When I first saw this dress, I assumed it was monochrome: an experiment in what you could do with one fabric, a bit of trim, and lots of fabric manipulation.

Then I looked closer, and realised that it’s two fabrics: a muted purple, and a small blue and gold paisley print that blends into muted purple from a distance.

It’s a classic example of Victorian more-is-more-ness, with two fabrics, layers of texture and trim, and details upon details. Even the abalone shell buttons (half of which are purely ornamental – just like last week’s dress) are decorated with flowers and braided rims

Interestingly, though the dress is late enough for the sewing machine to be relatively common, all the visible stitching on the dress is done by hand. The elaborate trims and ruffles of the 1870s and 80s were partly made possible by the sewing machine, which made extensive hemming and decorating much faster. However, some of the most expensive dresses were still made entirely by hand, while others combined hand and machine stitching.

Without examining it in person it’s impossible to tell if this dress is fully hand sewn, or combines the two techniques. However, the places where the hand sewing is most obvious on this dress are on techniques that most 1870s sewing machines couldn’t do: ruffling, and buttonholes.

It’s also a perfect example of Victorian practicality. The ensemble comes with two bodices: a fitted cuirasse bodice for more formal indoor wear, and a looser jacket, for wearing on the street.

The jacket does not appear to be intended to be worn over the bodice: it’s sleeves are too slim to fit over the decorative ruffled cuffs of the cuirasse bodice, and in any case, a matching jacket over a bodice would be extremely unusual in the context of late 1870s-early 1880s fashion.

Instead of being outerwear, the jacket is an outfit extender: helping the owner to make full use of the skirt, which requires the most fabric and time, and thus the most expense. With two bodices, she could get double the use of the skirt.

What do you think?

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, so I can find it!  And 0 is not on a scale of 1 to 10.  Thanks in advance!)