I'm an amateur seamstress, and despite my hiccups here and there I have made some quite nice things. I've even made a regency spencer, a shorter kind of jacket. If there were no jackets in the shops that I wanted, why not have a go at making one myself? I've made corsets, crinolines, bustles, and whole Victorian ensembles, why couldn't I make a jacket from the 50s? Well...I'd soon find out.
Sewing clothes is not tailoring winter coats. It's similar, but not the same. But let me start at the beginning.
Fabric!! We all love fabric shopping, buying things for that never ending "stash" but since becoming a cash strapped student I can't afford to splurge on fabrics that are nice but are destined to go unused in the stash for years to come. I made a new rule with myself that I would only buy fabric that I needed, with a specific project I was either currently or going to work on. The real story behind this jacket is that I had already bought another one, from a different pattern provider, but when I moved house (oh yeah, did I mention that?) I lost it, along with another really awesome pattern for some fabulously flared trousers. I was sad, and went to buy it again, but just couldn't help myself looking at the other patterns again, and that;s when I came across this one from McCalls from 1956. Do you have that possessive voice in your head, a bit like Golum but has had a Strepsil? Mine!!
Back to fabric. I wanted a wool blend, but wool confuses me. Wool twill, wool suiting, wool merino, boiled wool, what the f**k are you supposed to use?! I ended up going to one of my usual suppliers (Sherwoods fabrics, I love the fabrics, so beautiful, just wish it wasn't so expensive), who comments on the fabrics they supply by giving examples of the drape or the feel, and what you can make from it. I went to their wool section and looked through, and my God were they expensive. But it turns out wool is expensive, even the poly blends. It didn't matter though because I found the mother of all wools, no wool, no matter how soft or perfectly woven, will ever beat this one, because....it's tartan!!!
Isn't it the best thing since sliced bread?! It was love at first sight, and it wasn't as expensive as a lot of the other wools I'd seen. So it's a wool tweed, not the softest but not prickly like some boiled can be, and it is 100% wool. I cringed a bit at the lightness of the colour. I'm a very practical person when it comes to clothes I wear every day, and I never make anything white because I just won't be able to keep it clean, and the same goes with anything light. But this wasn't going to be a dog walking coat, it was going to be worn to work, and the occasional times I went out socially, so no strenuous over use. And come on, tartan!!
Ironically this coat was more expensive to make than if I'd bought the only fit-and-flare that ASOS stocks this year, also of an equally impractical camel colour. But that's not the point, is it? I now have a jacket that fits me specifically, not very well in some places, but perfect for a first attempt.
I did a mock-up with some old bed sheets retired from their original purpose, and as always it was too big, and shockingly shapeless for something from the waist fitting 50s. The jacket is made up of 8 panels (it doesn't feel like that many); two front, two side front, two side back, and two back. You could possibly forgo the CB seam, but this wool was expensive, and I was sticking to the instructions.
And just a minor tangent at this point. WTF is with tissue paper for patterns? I've bitched about this before, but...just...why? Tracing it onto pattern paper is an absolute bi**h, and even if you didn't do that cutting tissue paper is also annoying, and let's not even talk about long-term storage, that stuff rips like wet paper.
I have one saving grace as a seamstress. I'm quite good at measuring by eye. This comes in handy when doing hems, and with alterations. I estimated it needed taken in at the waist by an inch or two, and took the seams in accordingly. This is when the 8 panel nonsense becomes a pain because you could just take in the side seams, but then the fronts and backs wouldn't be shaped correctly, so you have to take in the same amount from every seam! I think I left the CB, as this was straight in the first place whereas the others had definite curves to them. I managed. I took it in more at the bust, but it wasn't enough, as it turned out, but nothing major, just means I have more than enough room for my large woolly jumpers. I shortened the length because I don't really suit lengths beneath the knee/on the calf, so this jacket now sits delightfully above my knees.
Then came the scary time for cutting the fabric. I always get nervous when cutting out expensive fabric like this wool, the silk for the 1860s crinoline ball gown, and no doubt next year's natural form era gown. The instructions state to interline your fashion fabric, and I was dubious about this step because I thought it would add too much weight. I mean wool tweed isn't exactly chiffon. I quickly looked online to find some justification why I didn't need to do it (bearing in mind I didn't want to spend more money on interlining fabric). I ended up deciding it was better to do it and learn than miss it and regret. Thankfully one of the plentiful things in my stash is cotton, more specifically floral cottons, mostly twill, that have been there for years with no hope of use. I thought they'd do as well as anything else. They were really pretty cottons as well, it's a shame they'll never be seen.
I wish you could see my face in the above picture, it looks so happy and proud. You can see the interlining fabric on the collar...such a waste.
There are also some issues with the fit of this jacket at the bust. I think it's too big, just a little, but I never noticed it in the pictures, and it doesn't feel that roomy on, so I left it.
The side front piece is split into a top and bottom half. The pocket is inserted into the seam between top and bottom. it sounds complicated but was very easy to do. I didn't pattern match this jacket because it's another skill I've yet to tackle, and really this was the first project I used bold patterns on. It is on my to do list.
I put in the sleeves, which were a joy. When I was doing the mock-up I couldn't make head or tail of the instructions for the cuff, and ended up giving up. Yet when I was reading the same instructions a week or two later they fell into place. Now I have the cutest little cuff, and what was better was that the sleeves were a perfect fit, lengthwise, which is rare (I have long arms). Because I had failed with the cuff at the mock-up stage I had initially decided not to do it at all and just cut the excess off the sleeve after it was fitted in. This wasn't necessary, and I was lucky that they fit with the cuff.
They are a bit long, but rather too long than too short. I also decided against shoulder pads because, well, I don't particularly like them. Let's just hope they don't serve some function.
Next was the lining. I decided to go for this paisley patterned lining material that's so popular these days, you can get it in any fabric shop, and it comes in every colour under the sun. I think I purchased the red a few years ago, this time it was a dark-ish blue (midnight blue?)
I had some trouble trying to figure out which side was the right one, and I think I got it, but if I didn't at least it's the same on all panels.
Once all of that was assembled it was time to join the two layers together. I should say at this juncture the main body of the jacket is heavy, as you would expect with that much wool. You actually have to cut 2 of the front panels, and one acts as a facing for the collar/opening. You sew around the collar, and are supposed to sew along the bottom of the front panel, but I couldn't figure out how this worked since the seam allowance was shorter than the hem length for the coat, so I only did the side seams, and fudged the bottom.
The only problem with this jacket is that it has a floating lining. You're meant to baste the lining to the main body at the shoulder and underarm, then finish the lining at the cuffs and the hem. In hindsight I should have hemmed the lining before it went in, but I didn't, and no matter how hard i tried (because it's a curved hem), it was almost impossible to hem nicely when it was all attached. As a result I only attached it at the seams, so there's a floating lining at the hem.
I also didn't attach the lining at the cuffs, but it keeps on getting caught on my Fitbit so that's something I'll need to do. Overall I'm really proud of this coat, and is it just me or does the tartan wool remind you of 1950s? Only when it was made did I think that.
I'm terrible with photoshoots in that I've only ever done one for my 1870s ensemble, and it was my friend who took the pictures. It was a really nice day, and it was Bath so they couldn't have gone wrong. However, where I live all my friends are married with their own lives, and I don't own a decent camera, so everything I've ever made has never been photographed properly. I wanted this jacket to be different. Other period pieces will make a nightmare of a shoot because of how different they look to modern clothing, but the 1950s is still in style. I do plan on getting a proper camera after Christmas, but I had to settle for my phone this time. Thankfully my new house is 200 years old and has a wonderfully large back garden, and the day of the photoshoot was pre-winter sun, not a cloud in sight. the bad thing about my phone's camera is...well, it's a phone camera and i was using the front lens. I also had it strapped to a fence post in the back garden with an elastic bobble for your hair (I'm resourceful). As a result the sun blocks out the definition of the pattern of the coat, but hopefully after christmas i'll be able to get better ones. I'd also just had my hair cut and curled and it turned out very 1930s (I know too early), but my hair is never that nice so I rushed about to get these pictures as soon as I came back.
The shoes were prety perfect in my mind too. I had forgotten I'd bought them until I was looking for something to wear to a family wedding and found them on the shoe rack (I only ever wear one pair of shoes, the rest for fancy occasions/re-enacting are up the stairs).
