An 18th century Robe en Chemise

Very few garments have ever been so scandalous as the chemise a la reine, Gaulle, or robe en chemise, whichever you prefer. I've gone into the history of the robe en chemise in another post, so I won't repeat myself here.

We're all here because I wanted one. Not the white, high-maintenance ones that are extant, or in the paintings, although that was tempting. Somehow, mine is made from printed floral cotton.

As I've said in other posts, in 2018 I am anti-HA. There is no evidence that chemise a la reine's were made of printed fabric, white and other plain colours, yes, but not prints. Obviously, absence of evidence doesn't necessarily mean they didn't exist. After all, there are only about 2 or 3 chemises still extant. Regardless, when I saw the fabric I just thought it would make a nice robe en chemise.

It's cotton lawn, I didn't feel like voile which is common for chemises, but this fabric was a bitch to work with. For a lawn it was so so thin! Not sheer, just really soft, floppy and frayed so easily, worse than the lawns I usually work with. It had a very loose weave, if you know what I mean. I can forgive its many sins though because it's so pretty.

It's worn with a chemise, my 1780s stays, a small bustle pad originally intended for an 1870s ensemble, my hybrid petticoat, American Duchess Pemberley shoes (discontinued), and a cute little regency beret ( a little later than this gown but it was too hot for my 1780s half wig).

Let's get undressed!!

Off with the sash

From the front it could quite easily be a 1790s round gown, shame I did the fitted back...

You can barely see, but there are two cotton tapes for ties at the neckline, and underbust

The lining is laced up for a snug fit....perhaps too snug

My experimental 18th century petticoat, lined with cotton organdie

The bustle pad made for the 1870s, but fits with 1780s.

The making of.......

There was a case of a missing pattern during this project. I lengthened the pattern I used for my regency ensemble and cut out the lining. I had about 3 or 4 projects on the go by this time (June was a hell of a month) so I'd be jumping from one thing to the other. I made quite a few alterations to the lining, despite mock-ups, and left it for a few days. When I came to cut out the lawn I couldn't find that pattern anywhere. My sewing room is in a bad state, I'm not going to lie, but I turned that place upside down looking for these pattern pieces and couldn't find them anywhere. So this means I'll find them in September, not so handy now.

I had to just use the lining, which was already constructed, to try and cut out the fabric. This was not fun and so unbelievably frustrating. It also prompted me to try a different construction method; mounting the fashion fabric to the lining. I assumed because of my patternless-ness the pieces wouldn't match up exactly, so I folded in the seam allowance and mounted them to the lining, which hid any mistakes.

The front lining is laced up with...that's right, metal grommets!! #antiHAcrew

Things got worse when it came to the front. Somehow my fashion fabric shoulder straps were smaller than the lining ones. I ended up having to do them again and make them wider.

The next problem was the casings for the drawstrings. The neckline was fine, although I realised that using bias binding was a bit too stiff, so changed to twill tape afterwards. I ensured that the casing for the waist was put on straight, and hand sewed it on with tiny stitches. During the fitting stage I found that it wasn't straight at all and was messing with the front panel. I'm still not quite sure what happened, but after that I just decided to put a casing at the under bust, and leave the waist. I might go back and put one on, but since I'll always be wearing a belt with it I just couldn't see the point in the drawstring.

There was a lot of hand sewing of the front panel, in fact there was a lot of hand sewing on this entire project!

That's just string so I got the placement of the casings right after the first disaster

Another source of problems came from the hem. You can see in the picture above that the front it shorter than the back. This is because I had measured the back to go over a false rump, which is now in the bin. The rump was more of an experiment. I didn't want to use my 1780s false rump because I think they look a bit too big for the robe en chemise, so I tested my skills and made one based on an extant. This also turned out to be too big, but I knew I needed something for my derriere.

I haven't published it on the blog yet, but I was working on an 1870s natural form gown at the beginning of the year, which remains a UFO for now, and I made a small bustle pillow. I ended up not needing it for the natural form because it looked too big for that, and it lay abandoned in a corner for months. When I was trying on the robe en chemise I remembered this little bustle, made out of an old pillow case and stuffed with the scraps from the sewing room bin. It was the perfect amount of volume, especially under my experimental 18th century petticoat.

Back to the hem. I had roughly 2.5" difference between the front panel and the back skirt panel. To be honest the front was too short for my liking, and the back was the perfect length, but how to fix it? I know I complained about this fabric being a bitch to work with, but I'm so glad I chose it. I'm finding, ever since working with patterned fabrics, that they're really quite forgiving. They're so busy that any mistakes kind of just disappear, as proven by my Pierrot.

I cut out a strip of the lawn (which I still had about 1m leftover) and sewed it to the bottom of the front panel. Sorted. I thought it would be awful and that the seam would be really obvious, but it's not that bad, in my opinion. Just don't look that closely.

God forbid this project went smoothly, this is what happens when you don't pattern or mock-up correctly. I'm glad I got this fabric on sale. I designed the front of this gown a bit strangely in that the arm scye at the front had quite a sharp angle where the strap met the front panel. I attempted to fix this with the strap, but it didn't work. I attached the sleeves whilst the dress was on an armless mannequin, and when I put it on, the sleeves were pulling from the front. I'd also had to put a few pleats in the sleeves to fit them in.

Look at those peaks!! Ugh! But let's look on the bright side, the rest of the sleeve fit perfectly over my arms, and I mean perfect. I patterned these from the American Duchess book, in the section on the round gown from the 1790s. I wish I'd done this with my Pierrot.

My solution was to unpick the top of the arm scye, at the shoulder, and kind of feed the sleeve further into the arm scye. I think the head of the sleeve is to steep, I had this problem with the Pierrot sleeves as well. I'm actually glad I hand sewed these in because the stitching was a lot easier to unravel than if it had been done on machine.

I cut them to the right length, they're a bit long for my liking in the above picture, and then I was done.

The belt is just a piece of brown velvet ribbon that I originally intended to go with my Pierrot. The sash I made for this was from a remnant I had of the blue silk taffeta I used to make my 1780s petticoat. I even bought a vintage buckle and everything, but when I put it on with the chemise it just didn't go, and if I thought that, the person who needs fashion plates to chose colours, then you can imagine how bad it must have been. The ribbon was thin, and because the floral pattern was brown, i think the brown of the velvet just went better.

I would have liked a longer tail, hence why I made the taffeta sash quite long, but I wasn't going to buy more velvet ribbon just for that. I think the bustle pad just gives the backside that extra volume that it needed without it being too big.

An 18th century Pierrot jacket

I don't think there are many fashion periods in history where the name of an item of clothing it so hotly debated than the latter half of the 18th century.

What's the difference between a caraco, casaquin, and pierrot jacket? Is it a Gaulle, a robe en chemise, or chemise a la reine? When does a sacque become a l'anglaise or italian gown? So much confusion for a period of 50 years.

I fell down the rabbit hole of the first question. Who knew jackets, which were considered informal wear, would become so hotly discussed a few centuries down the line? Here's my take on the difference. A caraco jacket is the earlier incarnation, and could be from thigh to knee length, and had 3/4 length sleeves, with construction similar to a l'anglaise (the pleated back of the francaise is stitched down). A casaquin, according to the all-knowing source of American Duchess, is a slightly shorter caraco decorated with frillies. And a Pierrot is the shortest of them all, and is more like a bodice with a tail.

I like them all, but for late 1780s it's Pierrot central. I already wrote a blog post about the inspiration and historical background for my Pierrot jacket, so I won't go into detail here.
I always devour blog posts about ensembles and get really annoyed when people don't mention undergarments. I'm wearing a shift (technically regency because it fits better than my linen 18th century one), a nearly-finished pair of 1780s stays, a false rump, a linen petticoat (under), and a silk taffeta petticoat (over). Taffeta is a dream for creating volume. The ensemble wouldn't be complete without my hedgehog half-wig.

The making of...

First onto patterning. I was slightly irritated by this. I had intended that my entire 1780s ensemble would be commercial pattern free. I was faced with a choice when it came to making this jacket. I had the Sense and Sensibility pattern for an Italian gown type dress, which could be not-so-easily (as it turned out) modified into a Pierrot, or I had the American Duchess one to scale up. My experience of scaling drawn patterns up hasn't been great lately, so I caved and used the S&S. Yet, after much faffing, I actually used a strange Frankenstein's monster kind of pattern that was neither wholly S&S, AD, or my own.

The fabric was supposed to be everyone's favourite Ikea duvet cover, which I bought two king size when they were on sale. However, when I was fabric shopping for another item in my 18th century wardrobe I came across a really nice floral, that is possibly not as HA, but I don't care.

Ah patterning, old nemesis. Using commercial patterns I always have to do 50 alterations, and this was no different. I've used S&S patterns before with my regency day wear, and it went together like a dream with no alterations. But that was a gathered waist, so a lot easier than a fitted jacket.

Thanks to my earlier adventures of back pleating my Victorian evening bodice, adding the box pleats on these pieces was a breeze, the waist placement was not. It fitted alright the first time, a bit big, the CB waist was too low, the front length was too short, and the neckline was low and high in all the wrong places.

Some alterations later and I had a bodice that fitted well, but wrinkled at the front. I remembered at this point of the trouble-shooting pages they have at the back of the AD guide, and wrinkling bodices is one of the ones they address. I could have sworn they recommended the front to be cut on the bias, whereas the S&S said on the grain. My stays are very curved in the front, which was why the cut on the grain panel was buckling. The next major problem was the back.

Arm scyes are set further back in the 18th century because the fashion was to have shoulders back, but this was ridiculous, and the back neckline was also so low. This wouldn't be a problem if my chemise wasn't high-necked. I ended up drawing the pattern a lot more similar to the American Duchess pattern than the S&S. I probably should just have scaled it up, but both probably would have taken equal time anyway.

Tails!!!

I also had a problem with boobage. That's right, me, the Queen of no-boobs. The bodice is actually a little tight at the bust because of the curved front that apparently thrusts me out. For the first time in my costuming career, I had to take out the seams at the bust. Unfortunately, I never managed to get rid of the wrinkling at the front, despite cutting the front panel on the bias. Even in hindsight, I still can't figure out why...

After much faffing with patterns I either finally got one that fit fine, or gave up the will to pattern anymore mock-ups.

I cut out the floral cotton, which was thin as hell. I flatline with.....iron on interfacing. That's right, I am completely non-HA now, and it still feels good. There's actually a reason beyond outright rebellion against the HA community. I've had problems with flatlining recently. When I flatline there are always wrinkles, I can never get them smooth, despite actually ironing them together before pinning and sewing. I can't understand it, but I was desperate not to get wrinkles on this jacket, which is ironic since there are major wrinkles on the front panel.

One of my solutions to prevent flatline wrinkling was to just iron on the interfacing, and in all honesty it worked, no wrinkles.

I did a bit of a hybrid method of construction with this because I couldn't remember or couldn't be bothered looking up the HA method. I knew I didn't want to bagline it because that has a habit of the lining peeking out from underneath. Instead, I attached them at the CF where the closure is, and then did a kind of stitch in the ditch to attach the rest of the seams.

Sleeves.....sleevils. To be fair, they weren't that bad, but the pattern for this ensemble was just awful, and it was my fault. Because I had changed the placement of the arm scyes on the bodice, the original sleeve pattern didn't work. It was when I was trying to fit them in that the sewing Gods smiled upon me. I realised, through a strange fit of genius, that the arm cap was too high. Without measuring, and really eyeballing it, I hacked off some of the height. Can you believe it worked perfectly? I've never had so much luck and I think I may be cursed for the rest of the sewing year.

The other slight problem was that the sleeves were a little too big at the forearm. I know, sexy but too tight sleeves is another problem, but since this jacket was so tailored and well-fitting everywhere else the big sleeves just made it look sloppy. Unfortunately, I had used the AD book method of sleeves that hides the seam allowances between the fashion fabric and lining, and the sleeves had already been painstakingly set in by the time I decided I wanted to change it.

Solution? Darts. The other problem with the S&S sleeve pattern was that it wasn't curved. What I did to solve the problem was to put a dart at the seam between the elbow and wrist. It, surprisingly, worked. The pattern on the fabric is really forgiving in that it's so busy that it hides most construction mistakes.

Finally was trim. I had a completely stupid moment for a few days. Because I'm so used to making trim for Victorian garments, where the edges are all finished, I was cutting out strips and putting small hems on them. I mean I even have pinking scissors! It wasn't until I saw something, or watched a video, that I remembered that it was really fashionable in the 18th century to have pinked trim.

I wanted cuffs on my jacket, because who doesn't like cuffs? I box pleated a strip and attached it at the wrist, but I decided that the strips I'd cut out were too thick for the neckline, which I was tempted to leave bare.

I had to reduce the width for the neckline trim, which I debated with myself about whether to add. Because the floral pattern is so busy I felt the neckline trim was getting lost, so I did a test strip, changing the box pleats to small knife pleats, and pinned it in place. It just gave the jacket that something extra, another dimensionality (not a word, whoops), so on it went.

As we do for scientific papers let's look at the strengths and limitations of this study. Strength, it's a nice fabric, if not a bit thin. There's trim, which is rare in my case. It fits well, and because the fabric is so busy it's difficult to see the wrinkles at the front, although not the mysterious ones at the back.

Limitations. I'm pretty sure the sleeves are pulling the straps down, widening the neckline. I've read the cause somewhere but can't for the life of me remember what it is. It might be that my hacking away at the sleeve head was too much. Serves me right for not measuring. It's not that noticeable in my opinion.
Yes, those are my stays you can see poking through, but that's an undergarment issue, one of many with those stays.
The wrinkling......

This project was really fun, and it actually turned out pretty much exactly as I pictured it, which is always a win.

An 1780s half-wig

What fun would making a 1780s ensemble be without an attempt at an accurate hairstyle? Like many other people, I've seen The Duchess and drooled over the epic hedgehogs, and hat game. Obviously I have neither the skill nor the budget to come close to that film, but I do have imagination and some creative skill. I also have the ability to research other costumer's previous attempts.

Note: it helps if you curl your own hair

My hair, although quite thick, is also fine and not quite shoulder length. I could curl my own hair but I fear it would look more like Afro than hedgehog. The second option was stolen from Lauren at American Duchess who did some curling magic on a half-wig and somehow got the perfect 1780s hairstyle.

You know costume envy? Well, I had wig envy. It was easy enough to acquire my own cheap synthetic half-wig, that despite doubts actually matched my hair alright. I went for the cheapest because I knew very well this adventure of mine could be a disaster, forever writing off the wig.

The second was curling method. There are two methods of styling a wig, dependent upon the type of hair. The first is to put curlers in, then give the wig a bath in boiling water before letting it dry out. I originally intended to do that until, as if by fate, I found a video on YouTube.

I'm not sure if many of you are aware of Janet Stephens, a historical hairdresser. She has a YouTube channel where she posts videos about historic hair recreations. One of them is dedicated to Papillote curls.

This is a historical curling method that was widely used in the latter half of the 18th century and the beginning of the 19th to create those perfect spiral curls we see in paintings of the time. It involves using tissue paper to curl the hair. You wrap a section of hair around your fingers, wrap the curl in tissue paper, and then apply heat. It protects the hair from the heat, and means you can leave the curl to cool whilst still in shape. Watch the video, it's amazing!

I wanted to try this so badly. I knew I'd never be able to do it on my own hair, but it would be a lot easier on a wig. Thankfully the wig I bought was heat-resistant, meaning I could use this method.

There was a good and bad thing about this wig. It is really synthetic. What I mean by this is that there is no way anyone is going to mistake it for human hair. It tangles easily, and has that plastic shine so many wigs do, but again, I've seen worse. The other bad thing is that it's "layered". Because it's made for modern women, the hair isn't all one length, which can either be bad or good. Some are short, probably about the length of my hair, whilst some others are almost waist length.

I curled the longer hairs nearer the bottom with the mind that these would be the "tail" so often seen hanging from a hedgehog. I'm not going to lie, this took a while. The sections were about half an inch thick, although some varied as the strands were quite hard to separate. Wrapping also takes some dexterity, especially trying to keep the strand in the coil. I've never been blessed with hair-dressing skills, so it might just have been me.

I felt like I'd used at least 4 sheets of tissue paper and wasn't even half done. Since I have a full-time occupation, I managed to do it in 5 sessions of roughly 30-45 minutes. So, quite long.

After everything was cool I started to pull out the paper papillotes by their tails, as instructed, during the first episode of season 4 of Poldark.

Like I had suspected at the beginning, the longer layers at the bottom were still a bit too long. Than came the fun part: shaking the hell out of it.

Synthetic wigs are very tangle-oriented so it's not easy to drag your hands through the curls like the instructions said. Instead I just separated curls where possible, and ended up sacrificing kirby grips to the longer pieces of hair.

May need to re-think the ribbon

It didn't turn out too shabby in my opinion, given it's a first time. I did have to trim a few strands here and there, but nothing too major.