Another Natural Form Era Corset

I must be a very weird person. I have stated repeatedly on this blog that I hate making corsets....all except 2 that is. The first was the Sew Curvy Victoria kit. It hardly needed any alteration, and it gave me shape instead of the other shapeless tubes I'd made before, and it prompted my disastrous attempt at an authentic pattern.

The Making of...

I wasn't happy with the first natural form era corset I made. Those winkles of the satin haunt me, and the shape just isn't right. I vowed to do it again, making the adjustments I knew it needed and just in general improving it. Then I got Jean Hunnisett's book for the 19th century. Inside was a basic corset pattern of 5 pieces, no gores, gussets, or any of that nonsense. Upon a closer read I found out that it was either based on, or actually from, an authentic 1878 corset pattern. Perfect, just the era I needed!

I had already scaled up and enlarged a pattern from a book (my 18th century stays from Waugh, to be blogged about in due course), and this would be no different. The first time had been so much fun, so much problem solving, so many lovely numbers. After some initial confusion, and miscalculations of my own measurements, I had a pattern that should fit me exactly.

I physically don't understand why they never do. Don't get me wrong, it was much closer than my first attempt of my stays, but still a wee bit off. That was the most frustrating. It wasn't massively off, the mock-up closed completely at the back, but fit everywhere otherwise quite comfortably. I wanted a 2" lacing gap at the back, which meant I had to take this ridiculously small amount from each seam (0.5mm) since that's how I understand enlarging patterns.

Second mock-up still laced completely closed at the back, but this time fit more snugly. Not wanting to faff about with another half a cm, just to be sure I took about 0.7mm from the waist and hips, and 0.8mm from the bust, since, yes you guessed it, that was too big. I don't get this. I swear I have a chest. Granted, it's not that big, but it's definitely there.

When I looked at my measurements/proportions, I found that there wasn't many cm between my waist and bust. Until the waist I am literally just straight up and down, none of this hourglass loveliness, and my boobs themselves aren't much. I've always had this problem with patterns. given my size, I should be well-endowed, but for some reason I'm not. It's not a complaint, in every other area of my life I'm glad I'm quite modest in that area, but when it comes to drafting patterns and scaling them up, it's weird to find that you may as well just draw a straight vertical line from your bust to your waist.

Finally, at the third mock-up, the current record for any garment I've made, we had a corset that fitted, and had a lacing gap at the back, albeit what looked like a small one. Eager, I cut into the cute spot brioche coutil I'd bought for the corset, and began constructing it in record time. I don't know if it was because I had technically constructed 3 of this corset before starting on the final one, or I'm just getting quicker at the sewing process, but it was cut out, busk inserted, and pieces stitched together in about 4 hours. Boning channels and boning itself took another 3 hours.....ok, not sounding super fast anymore considering the professionals make 4 and more in a day, but I'll take the small win.

What I should have done was a fitting when all pieces were constructed, except for the fact I started boning the seams before putting the centre back panel to the others. Instead my first fitting of the finished garment was after I had finished boning the whole thing. It did fit, although slightly snug, which I suppose is a stupid statement considering it's a corset, but I felt like it was digging in to my underarms, which I suppose is easily fixed.

Then came a small niggle. In my last corset, also a mid-bust, one of my friends asked me if it wasn't too short at the bust, and when I looked closer it kind of looked that way. After taking pics of this one at the first stage fitting, I began to be paranoid it was also too short at the top. I had been so busy concentrating on getting some curves to my hips that I've never addressed where corsets are supposed to stop. This pattern was described as a mid-bust, but does that mean stop at your bust line exactly, or a few more cm higher.

From what I can understand mid-busts are supposed to support the chest, probably pushing it up in the process, not squeezing them up like 18th century ones. At the end of the day this corset is wider at the chest, and I'm not spilling over the top of it. Looking more closely at other people's corsets I think I might have figured out the slight miss-design in mine. it's meant to curve upwards from centre front to the middle of the breast, if that makes sense, and then curve down under the arm-pits. Mine is slightly curved, but not by much, which is perhaps why this looked a little strange to me. Oh well, something to work out in the next corset, of which they'll inevitable be one.

Because this lovely nude spot brioche is so flexible, I could have chosen any colour, but keeping with the gentle colours, I chose a pastel green, if that's what you would call it. I can't seem to make anything that doesn't have a small contrast. I think it just would have been too boring if I'd used beige/nude bias binding. It was enough that I bought matching coloured laces.

I even flossed this one properly, and in the midst of the job (which took a few months because procrastination) I got a DSLR camera for super-HD images. I don't know about anyone else, but it always takes me a few goes to get the flossing right, and they're never uniform. Probably just an experience thing since every time I've flossed, a total of about 2 times, I've used different patterns.

They do start looking a lot better the more I do. And with the flossing complete, the corset was finally ready.

An 1890s corset a.k.a the ok-ish housemaid

I'm making all the corsets in 2019 apparently. One of my projects for this year was an 1890s gown. Granted, I could've just used my natural form era one, but to my knowledge the shape slightly changes from the 1870s to the 1890s. I scoured all of my books and found the "pretty housemaid" corset in Salen's "Corsets" to be the easiest pattern.

The making of...

I had bought some black cotton coutil in a sale, and since the original corset in the book is black with yellow I decided just to do that.

I made 1 mock-up, of which I took no pictures. This project flew under the radar a wee bit because I was doing so many other things at the same time. Simultaneously I was also re-doing Waugh's 1776 stays, making prototype pocket hoops, designing a robe a la francaise, and even began to draft a fantasy gown.

The thing about corsets, to me, is that they're hard on the fingers. Because coutil is quite stiff, and tightly woven, sometimes getting pins through is hard, so I tend to get sore hands, and cuts. Thankfully, after 4 years of trying, I actually find corsets rather easy to put together (it's the boning channels in the seams that's difficult).

I realised the problem with my natural form era corset was that it flattened my chest rather than supported it. In other words, it functioned more like 18th century stays than a 19th century corset. So with the 1890s pattern I ensured I was supported rather than squashed.

Yes, that is a 2" waist reduction, but it was laced soooo tightly. I'd never wear it outside like that.

Unfortunately that shape reads more natural form to me than 1890s. There's something softer about the hip curve in the 1890s. I forgot this when I was drafting the pattern and so my hip just shoots out rather than curves out. Still, that shape is better than no shape, and the late 1890s was the time of hip pads, so I think I'm just being picky.

I pondered over what busk to use. The pattern in Salen has a straight one, but spoon busks were being used, and I'd already used one for my natural form era. I can't remember why I chose to use a straight one, but I did.

I also don't think the waistline of the corset matches my actual waistline. Also some of the panels waistline didn't match up. Corsetry experts will now be thinking that means the corset won't fit right, and true, laced tightly it did start digging in just underneath my ribs, a few cm above my natural waist. But here's the thing, I'm relatively straight up and down from bust to waist. And you can see from the pic above that the slight shift in waistline doesn't seem to create much of an issue, unless I lace it tightly which I never do.

At this point there was some gaping at the bust. I wrongly assumed that the corset just went too high, creating a cup shape more like a bra cup than a mid-bust corset curve. Unfortunately I was wrong, but stupidly didn't fix it before boning the seams. So the seam ripper came out. I took the bust in a little bit, but I lost a lot of the shape on my bust. Still not as flat as the natural form era...I honestly don't understand where my boobs go in corsets!

Something mildly annoying happened with this corset, and it's definitely a first. I only did 1 mock-up before cutting into the black coutil. It laced closed all the way in the back, but it fit. Hence I only had to take out the amount that would mean a lacing gap would be created. I took about half an inch from the sidemost panel, and one of the CB panels.

I don't know WTF I did but when I made it all up and tried it on the corset barely reached around my back. I had to go and re-cut the sidemost panel back to the original. The final corset is actually the same pattern I used for the first mock-up (with the waistline altered a few cm). I'm definitely getting better at scaling things up accurately.

Then came boning, on the seams, and usually in the back where it tends to wrinkle for me. I did toy with doing cording at the bust, since it was very popular at the time and that's what the original corset has, but I wasn't sure how that would affect the overall length since I hadn't factored in shrinkage for cording.

I bought special black and yellow lace, in an attempt to match the original, but I placed mine differently.

All in all this didn't take long, in fact I think it's the fastest corset I've ever made, and it was definitely the time saved from not doing multiple mock-ups. Perhaps I just got lucky this time, or perhaps I'm genuinely getting better at scaling things up to my size. Who knows. There was one minor problem in that I ran out of black bias binding for the bottom, and so for a few inches at the back, the black bias binding changes to the yellow I have on the top. Apparently if you don't bleed on your corset something else needs to go wrong.

I like the fit, and there's still some room to put some padding underneath the hips of the corset for that 1890s hourglass figure.

A Fantasy Gown: The Baldoch dress a.k.a renaissance faire vibes

Note: I wrote this blog post back in 2017 and it's been lurking in my drafts ever since, but now I finally got to take some pics of this gown I can publish this post, but CBA changing it. This was written when I was still in my trying-to-be-HA phase, which, as you know if you're a regular reader, has ended. So enjoy!

I haven't made anything non-historical since my first ever project; my fantasy Italian renaissance dress. It currently sits in my wardrobe at my parent's house, but I will have to take proper pictures of it because I still love it to this day. Don't get me wrong, the seams aren't finished, and its completely poly (apart from the cotton velvet bodice). I miss fantasy, and do you know why? Because you can use friggin anything!!

I love historical costuming, believe me I wouldn't sew half of my projects if I didn't, but sometimes it's just so annoying. Because I try to be historically accurate it means that nice fabric gets looked over because it's not 100% natural fibre. I have a growing bookmark list full of polys and poly mixes of the most beautiful fabric just waiting to be bought, but can't be because they're not HA. Well, after my 80% accurate regency spencer (which I think I may have put in the bin), I decided that the next project on the list this year was a fantasy gown I've been thinking about for months.

You're probably wondering at the name of this project. Baldoch (pronounced the Scottish way, please, Bahl-dochhh, like Loch), to my knowledge, is fictional (there is a place in Kent, but it's spelled differently). It is a made-up kingdom that I created in one of my short lived story ideas (the plot was weak and the storyline outplayed), but the idea of the gown remained. I wanted a flow-y dress made of layers and layers of chiffon, with a train that dragged out when I walked, and bishop style (although I hear the youths of today are calling it balloon) sleeves. So I set to work in what is probably the most unplanned project in any sewer's list.

The Making of...

I started out with the best of intentions. I wanted to start learning how to draft my own patterns, and I remembered that one of my books has a section at the beginning that shows you how to draft basic bodice, skirt, sleeve, and trouser patterns. I looked at the bodice and thought why would I draft it from scratch when the pattern I drafted for the Victorian Ball 2017 was exactly what I wanted? I was torn with the skirt. I knew I needed a panelled skirt if I wanted the volume at the hem with no bulk at the waist, and I ended up digging out both my 1860s and 1870s skirt patterns. In the end I drafted one completely from scratch, using the very helpful instructions in the book.

Now, as you may or may not know, I have 2 degrees in statistics, two, and I'm going to be starting a 3rd (a PhD - I know, I'm insane). Taking all that into consideration do you think I could half my waist measurement? Absolutely not. What made it worse was that it took me a week, and a fully drafted skirt pattern, to realise I'd not managed to successfully divide a number by 2. Yet, somehow, despite the spectacular brain malfunction, the completed skirt is still too big!  How...just how?! Numbers don't work the same way in costuming as they do in real life! Needless to say, I'm glad whatever happened did because it meant I didn't have to back to the drawing board - literally.

Fabric was actually quite hard because I didn't know what colour scheme I wanted. If you read this blog a lot you probably know I have issues with colours. I'm not colour blind or anything I just don't know what colours go together. For my first bustle era day ensemble I had to copy the colour scheme from a fashion plate, something I will no doubt repeat in the future. I knew I wanted chiffon for the skirts solely because of the drape and flow-iness, but there are different kinds of chiffon. It's meant to be sheer, but I've seen a few that are quite opaque. The other bad thing about poly is that everywhere does it. Usually I have a select few suppliers that stock HA fabrics, but every fabric shop in existence stocks poly. I still stuck to the usual suspects. I also decided I wanted a tonal effect, if that's how you put it. Because chiffon is see-through to an extent I wanted to create a kind of marbl-y effect through the layers.

The first layer was actually a purple poly crepe, just to make sure that no one was seeing what was underneath the skirts. The next layer was a lovely, yet thick, lilac chiffon. This chiffon was strange as it acted more like a Georgette in that it wasn't shiny, and it was barely see through. I didn't really need to use the crepe lining but I did anyway. The next layer was a bottle green chiffon I got from a shop on Ebay I'd never used before. I couldn't find the right green at any of my suppliers so took to Ebay. It was completely different quality from the lilac. It was labelled as bridal chiffon, and it was shiny with a little crunch, and was practically see-through. I wasn't that impressed with it, but I liked the colour so I cracked on.

Let this be a lesson to anyone reading. When drafting your own pattern I recommend writing instructions on how to assemble it. I can hear the snickers of derision from here, but I didn't do this because it's a dress, with two pieces that go together, how hard can it be? It wasn't to be honest, except that I forgot about the layers of the skirt. Another foolish thing I did when cutting out the skirt panels was making them all different widths, and this was because all 3 fabrics were different widths, and because I was lazy, and knew I wanted the skirt pleated to the bodice, just used one width by the desired length. I thought it would be a pain in the arse to put all three panels together and pleat them as one, so I attached the lining to the bodice first, pleating to fit. Have you seen the problem yet?

The mistake

The top most layer of the skirt is meant to go right sides together with the bodice, but because I'd done that with the bottom layer, it meant there was no way of attaching the other two layers. Now, I hate the seam ripper, and there was another reason I didn't want to use it on this project (you'll understand when I come to the bodice). What do you do when there's lemons? You make lemonade, kids. There is also more than one way to skin a cat.

The crepe layer was attached, and I was drowning in metres of chiffon. My solution was to hem both top and bottom of the remaining panels, and then attach them on top. This would create a lot of bulk, so I kind of planned to grade them, with the top most layer hiding the very visible seam of the middle one. The order was, crepe as the base, lilac as the inter-layer, and then the bottle green on the top.

I had attached the lilac layer with semi-visible blue thread, and it was looking good. Then when I went to drape the green layer on I stopped.

It ruined it. The green layer just muted the vibrancy of the lilac and made the whole thing....well....meh. Not to mention, because I was planning on covering the lilac layer I hadn't measured the pleats, and they weren't even in the same place on either side of the front!

What was I going to do? I had cut and hemmed this nightmare chiffon layer, and couldn't bear the thought of not using it. One seam hadn't been sewn up yet, so I thought of making it like a detachable train, then realised I hadn't sewed up the CB, the longest piece. Ugh.

So I made lemonade again. I took inspiration from the regency era. I read somewhere on a pattern (think it might be S&S) that some empire gowns were only pleaded between the curved side back seams. The bodice had these as well, so I did the same thing with this skirt.

I also made it so the skirt didn't go all the way round, leaving the bright lilac on show in the front. I was satisfied, considering what a disaster this project was already turning into.
One more note about the lilac skirt is that I faced the hem. I couldn't quite get away from historical costuming, but there is a reason for this. I faced it with bias binding all the way round, but corded the back panel. I wanted the skirt to pull out behind me, and thought adding the cord would weigh it down, thereby dragging behind me. To make matters worse because I thought I was going to cover it the binding is that tartan I can't seem to finish and have used on most of my projects since the beginning of time, and obviously the cord makes the hem look a little weird as well. Oh well, we live and learn.

Let's move onto the bodice. This was another weird one. As I stated above I used the pattern from my first bustle era ensemble made for the Victorian Ball 2017. I knew it fitted me perfectly over a corset (which I was wearing with this dress anyway), so I used it. The first thing that went wrong was the waistline. For some reason it lost a few inches in the process of transferring it from the Victorian pattern to its own one. This dress is meant to be at the natural waistline, but you can see it's crept up an inch or two, not that it's a bad thing, I suit that as well (just not empire, please, God, not empire waistlines). But considering I made a mock up of it anyway, was surprising. I even added a seam allowance to the bottom! I suppose this is what happens when you don't plan anything.

Mock-up

Next we have the fabric. Let me start this by saying I love this fabric, absolutely love it. It's embroidered velvet, and boy was it expensive for poly. At £25 p/m (and it comes in different colours) I was a bit reluctant, but bought it anyway, thinking it would be perfect and I would only need 2 metres (but still, for a poly blend?). I've only worked with cotton velvet, never a poly blend, and this was so bad. It moulted worse than my dog! For days and weeks after it had been on the cutting table I was finding bits, and I had even vacuumed after each cutting session because I know how bad it can be for dog's lungs. So much for that effort, evil stuff.

It was also a bit** to get the scissors through. The gold vines are this strange golden embroidery thread I've used before, kind of like imitation thread of gold, not really sure if it has a name and what that name is. It was also bejewelled, and because the pattern pieces sometimes rested on these jewels I had to hack them off, and for anyone who was worked with poly velvet will know how painful this can be.

It was thin fabric, and in hindsight I should have flat lined it instead of just lining it, but oops, I didn't. Can't remember what my logic for not doing it was. I bag-lined it (is that the term?) with blue marble-y effect cotton I had in the stash. That's what you can see poking from the arm holes.

For once the lining actually fit perfectly to the bodice, so I took this small victory. There are no bones in this, because CBA, and this dress was meant to be flowy and delicate, so bones would have been a little counter-productive.

The sleeves were a joy in that they were the easiest part of the entire damn thing. I have always been a fan of bishop/balloon sleeves and read online how to alter a straight sleeve pattern. The book I used by Elizabeth Friendship also has instructions on how to draft a straight sleeve pattern, and I felt so clever! Since this isn't a tutorial blog (yet) I won't go into detail (not to mention I took no pics of the process), but I ended up with this huge pattern that wouldn't even fit onto the fabric, so I trimmed it accordingly.

I made the sleeves of the lilac chiffon, and was going to put cuffs at the wrist, but then CBA with that, so ended up hemming them and putting a ribbon through as a drawstring. Finished with lovely etched aglets that I've always wanted to use.

This was my last project in my old sewing room as I moved house a few weeks after completion. As people reading this blog will probably have seen or know about the other costuming blogs out there, they always have really cool photoshoots, and for years I've been planning to have one. I had the perfect location, but no suitable camera, and buying it was put off and put off, so it took me 2 years to actually photo this project on me. I am wearing my natural form era corset underneath.

Re-enactment and HA: Do we have a problem?

I was a bit hesitant to write this post for numerous reasons, mainly because a lot of people will dislike me a lot for it. The other reasons include the danger of sounding ungrateful, and the other is the fall-out that comes with holding a mirror up to people who think they know their own reflection but don't. Before I begin I would like to say that, as with most things in life, this is entirely my opinion (which I'm entitled to) from my experiences, and won't necessarily be shared by all.

No one wants to be the bad guy, and I've spent all of my life trying to be liked, but perhaps it's time to accept that I have opinions that sometimes aren't popular ones, and will most definitely offend someone out there. If you are a serious re-enactor and like it that way, then I strongly advise you not to read on. This post will possibly provide some re-enactor gossip fodder at the next event that you can discuss around your historically accurate stove. Bitch away, my friends, God knows you love to.

According to the dictionary re-enacting is to "act out a past event", whether this be one of the many thousands of battles that have happened in human history, or simply going about the day to day routine of a maid, or a lady. It all sounds rather tame, but the world of re-enactment has a long, arduous, and controversial history. The majority of the population, perhaps correctly, think that this hobby is just dressing up, and you know sometimes it is, but for the majority of people out there it is to experience history in a completely unique way. How better else can we understand something than by experiencing it ourselves? The knowledge we gain helps us become better historians, and hence helps the historical education of the next generation. All is good.

Re-enactment is more than just a passing hobby for a lot of people, it's a passion, but as with any passion sometimes it runs away with itself. This is where the problem starts. In my mind, and the mind of the majority of the human population, a hobby is something you do for fun, whether that be on your own or in a group, hence re-enactment is supposed to be fun. So why have my last 2 experiences been short of that mark?

Granted, I'm not a part of a re-enactment group or society, and after my most recent experience I don't intend to be, but it was something I was interested in. At events the groups were friendly, and loved to talk and share their knowledge and experience. Little did I know that they're only like that to the general public. It becomes an entirely different matter when you try to penetrate this world of historical accuracy.

I've never been one for essays, or beating around the bush (thanks, Scotland!) so the point of this entire post is to point the accusatory finger at the re-enactment community and call you out.  Call you out on what? Call you out on being snobs.  That's right, you heard me, snobs. It might sound harsh, and I can hear the disgruntlement all the way from here, but as an outsider who has attempted to be a part of the magic, I judge how I find. Your friendliness is kept for the general public, the people who have been disadvantaged by a narrow education system, but when someone tries to join in at your event, that warm welcome and conversation are gone.

Now, it's time to say here that I've only attended 3 events, all of which are practically the 19th Century, so perhaps the snobbery is confined to this century, who knows, but honestly, I doubt it. The rules of re-enactment are relatively strict, and the kit is expensive the higher you go up the class ladder. Since you are proper re-enactors, and not just people who dress up, everything has to be authentic, or as close to it as possible.  No polyester.....ever!!! No cotton in the 12th century, no metal eyelets in the 18th, no back-lacing kirtle on a peasant! The list goes on, and no doubt expands the sexes, but I'm not a man so I don't know. Some of it I agree with, you are meant to be living history, so you probably should make a good stab at being accurate, but at what cost? is everyone made of money? Does the Queen really have to have real silk, when a good quality poly could probably look as good, and not break the bank? Perhaps this is just me trying to make up reasons why I don't have to buy 100% silk for my next event gown, but the judgment I've seen people get when they turn up in poly is utterly disgusting.

Let's circle around to events for the "general public" or events where anyone who's interested can join in. Most specifically balls. I've already posted about the ones I went to, so there's no secret about who attends and who organises, and if this gets me on the blacklist then......whoops. These balls are advertised as anyone can come, not necessarily in period costume, but in evening wear. Let's face it, anyone who goes is at least going to make the minimal amount of effort at the time period. And here lies the problem.

The re-enactors are rubbing shoulders with the wannabe Joe publics. The people who have spent hundreds if not thousands on their gowns and evening attire are dancing dances they know rather well with amateurs in silk poly who don't know their left from their right. These events are meant to be fun, but like when a private school has to host classes for their poorer public school neighbour, there is some amount of judgment and snobbery. Is it justified? Not in hell.

These events aren't re-enactors only, and perhaps the HA attendees should remember this. Surely the point is to encourage people into historical accuracy? to make them want to join their local dance group, or re-enactment society so they can learn and join in? To do this you need to make them feel welcome, which I've not once felt at either events I've attended this year. I was contemplating joining a re-enactment society.....I'm not now. At the first event I attended I didn't notice this atmosphere, and I had so much fun, however by the second and third it was there, the elephant in the room that only I could see. By the third I thought I was imagining things, until a new friend of mine pointed it out to me.

There are two main sources of this icy civility. One, which I've never personally experienced, is connected to costumes and attire, which I have mentioned above. Silk is expensive, dependent on quality and type, and not many people can, or want, to fork out the money, especially for something they may only be wearing once or twice. What's a cheap alternative? Polyester! Is it historically accurate? No. Does a good quality one look very similar to the real deal? Yes. So what's the issue? Apparently a big one. Sewing machines weren't widely used until the 1840s, yet your 1820s gown was machine sewn? Cue the silent gasps and not so silent judgment. You're using a glue gun to attach your flowers? How dare you! I'm sure the list goes on. What is the big deal here? These events aren't HA, so why the judgment? Why shouldn't people use modern technques for their costumes to a non-HA event? I am 95% confident that it a pre-sewing machine woman were to appear in the 21st century and be told that someone had made their gown by hand she would give them a strange look. Why go through the pain, hassle, and frustration of sewing a dress by hand just because it's from a period when they weren't used? Of course, it's a different story if hand sewing is voluntary, but I digress. These balls and events that are open invitations shouldn't have this level of costume snobbery. Don't invite the general public if you want these events to be historically accurate, there's my advice you didn't ask for,

The second source of this elitism comes from the dances themselves. Personally, the only dancing I did was modern in a group of girls my age, and ceilidh because I'm Scottish. I love ceilidh dancing, and so does the majority of Britain, and the reason it's so popular is because in Scotland we incite everyone to join in, no matter their experience or ability. If someone makes a mistake (even Scottish people, we're not perfect) we laugh it off and carry on, we do not frown, glare, or tell anyone off. f people aren't taking it seriously then they're doing it correctly! The more giggles, snorts, and sniggers of laughter the better. But not in England, not in proper historical dances, oh no, one must not laugh at their mistakes, or go the wrong way and giggle away the momentary embarrassment, God forbid. This particular point I have experienced. I get it, learning regency and Victorian dances are some people's hobby, and that's fine, but it doesn't give you a right to act elitist when you're in a workshop with beginners. It's an event for the public, not a show. The dances are complicated, and unlike you, or our historical counterparts, we aren't taught by a trained teacher how to do the steps. Our French is a bit rusty, possibly non-existent, and some people just aren't dancing-inclined, whatever the reason sometimes it takes a while to learn the steps and put the dance together. Going the wrong way, offering the wrong hand, or giggling at some of the sheer humorous hops and moves, is how a beginner acts. Telling them off, glaring at them, or anything else that indicates disapproval, is not only mean, it's just plain rude. Attending dance classes doesn't give you the right to dictate how others behave or act during the practice, or the event itself.

We'll call the next paragraph a half source of snobbery, and one that's very common. This point may become pretty convoluted because I can be guilty of doing this myself. Everyone likes a good costume drama. BBC, ITV, all of the American production companies, they're throwing them out like they're on a conveyor belt, all of varying quality. I did a post many years ago on the sheer inaccuracy of Reign, but that show was never conveyed as historically accurate so half stepped down in my annoyance. There are other shows that are labelled as historically accurate, like The White Queen on BBC, most recently The White Princess by Starz, Versailles, Harlots, Outlander, the Jane Austen novel adaptations, and so on. These all have varying degrees of accuracy. I'm not a clothing historian, I don't know when a front laced gown changed to a back lacing one and so forth, but if i ever forget then Frock Flicks is always there to remind me.

I have a love hate relationship with this website. In short this site tears apart costumes in costume dramas labelled as historically accurate, or set in a historic time period. I don't care if they think it's an analysis, or something else, they literally tear everything apart. Why does this bother me? They don't seem to understand that the film and TV industry doesn't have tons of money to throw at the wardrobe department. They don't seem to understand that the costume designers don't get to have the final say in what the actors wear. No doubt there are many more things they don't understand, but I'm not a part of that industry, and I only have the word of interviews from the designers, or friends who are in the industry, to inform me. So what if they used poly silk? So what if the dresses are back laced if they should be front laced? So what if she doesn't have a hat on? These shows aren't produced for historically accuracy, they're produced for plot, the acting, the story, the costumes are an added extra. The modern world is very different to the past ones, and if you make everything completely HA then you're in danger of losing something that's very important; viewer empathy. If they can relate to the hero or heroine, if they look slightly modern, then it's easier for the viewer to cheer them on, or relate to them. Yes, women, especially married ones, never wore their hair down, but recently they all do. Who friggin cares? Sometimes a half updo is nicer than greasy looking centre-parted hair slicked to the sides of your head. I am not so elitist that I can't admire a good costume, or nice hair, despite its historic innacuracy.

A more minor snag is the way people in the community bitch about some gender roles in recent years. The one that comes to mind is the female doctor in Versailles. Yes, I know women weren't doctors, but it's fiction!! It is a made-up story, based in a real-life setting. It's called imagination, and God knows we all need some in our lives! As a writer I'm guilty of making my characters do inaccurate things, because sometimes historical etiquette gets in the way of plot development. If a woman can't go out unaccompanied then how is she to meet that one person that has vital information for her? If a man isn't allowed to speak to a woman he hasn't been introduced to, then how many pages am I going to have to add by describing the introduction method? If a man is encouraged not to speak to a woman he only met at a ball, then how are the two leads supposed to fall in love? Writing historical fiction is hard enough as it is, cut us some slack here or you'll have nothing to read!

This post services as a rant, as well as pointing out a serious problem with a community. Re-enacment is about experiencing history, so why does it matter so much how we do it? Why can't we use subtle modern methods to bring the past to life for those who are interested? Why can't someone who doesn't know any historic dances attend a ball and not be judged or scolded? Events should make everyone feel welcome, no matter how involved in the community they are. If you continue to act high and mighty you may end up putting re-enactment on the dying hobby list as sewing once was. History is interesting, but to really engage people it has to be relatable and accessible to them as individuals or else it holds no draw.

I will strongly state again that this is just my opinion as an observer and occasional participant in these events, and won't necessarily be found everywhere. Hopefully you'll have more luck than my friend and I.

A natural form era corset

I hate corsets. Have I said that enough on this blog? I absolutely hate making them, and they never give me the shape I want. To be fair I've only ever made about 5, this being my 5th, so I don't know what I expect. My 4th was good, it was the Victoria kit by SewCurvy, and it was a dream. Unfortunately because that had gone so well I thought I was a friggin expert and went straight onto the advanced pattern, courtesy of Ageless patterns.

The above is the pattern I used. It's Ageless Patterns 1876 corset for Cuirass bodices. I thought because the beginner's kit had gone together so easily I was a big girl and could go straight for the HA ones. What was even better was that this pattern came in multiple different sizes, so there was no need to scale it up myself, which at this point I had never done.

Oh my, how wrong I was. I had done gussets before for my first bustle era ensemble foundations, and realised there were as many ways to put them in as there were ice-cream flavours in existence. This pattern offered yet a new way, which didn't work for me.

I began as any sensible costumer, by making a mock-up. The instructions were...well....sparse, but that didn't stop me. I could have sworn I took pictures of the mock-up stage, but my laptop died, as did most of the pics that weren't on Dropbox, so I can't find them/don't have them. All I can say is that it was roomy. I could have fit a watermelon or two in the bust, as well as the girls.

The bust has two gores, and there is one hip gusset at the front, and another at the back. I reduced both hip gussets, and took one of the bust ones out altogether, instead widening the front most one. Why did I do this? The placement of the second one ended up being nearly under my armpit, and I couldn't understand what exactly it was doing. My girls are quite small for my size, and that gusset was doing nothing. I always have problems with the bust area in patterns, so this was no surprise, but I couldn't be bothered faffing around with so many gores.

Also, it took me days to figure out how to insert them. All of the gores I've ever inserted have been in a slit in the fabric, but these are all between seams. It's hard to explain this pattern without a picture, but one panel would be smooth, and then the other would have a straight step towards the pattern piece where the bottom of the gusset was supposed to go. Yet the gussets weren't flat at the bottom themselves. How the hell you were supposed to get them in is still kind of beyond me.. The very talented owner of Before the Automobile blog made a much more successful corset than mine from the same pattern and managed it fine.

After the alterations it fit well, and it even gave me hip definition, (thank you hip gores).

The materials I decided to use for this were so stupid I don't know how I ever thought it was a good idea. This project was ambitious from start to finish, and my inflated ego about corsets didn't help. Arrogance doesn't make life better, kids. I was enamoured of the lovely silk covered silk corsets from costumers like Izabela of Prior Attire, and I wanted one of my own. My ego wasn't completely out of control because I knew I'd make a mistake at some point and so didn't want to fork out the money for silk. I went for poly satin. I know, I can hear the disapproving shakes of your heads from here.

I knew how to make a silk covered corset from the blogs I'd read on the subject, and the FB posts I'd seen. I still used coutil, trusty old coutil, and kind of flatlined the satin with the coutil, and treated them as one layer. That was where the problems started. The satin moved about like buggery, and there was already ripples in the pieces before I sewed them together. That's satin for you, no matter poly or silk.

The busk I used for this was true to pattern. The fabled spoon busk that started to become more frequently used in this period. It's wider at the bottom, and from what I understand is meant to give some more tummy control, which Lord knows I need in buckets. It goes in like any other busk. I was still proud.

I managed to wrangle in all the gussets, and put the eyelets in the back so I could check the fit. And shockingly enough it was still too big.

The office manager sleeping on the job

I had made some minor alterations after the second and final mock-up, mostly because the one-gusset was a little too snug in its support of the girls, but it wasn't anything major enough to fiddle with the fit everywhere. I must've forgotten to reduce something here or there. The fit illuminated the problems of the dreaded wrinkling. I suppose it was inevitable really considering my beginner status as a corset maker, but it's still annoying. If I was to do it again, which I won't be doing in a hurry, I would iron in fusible interfacing to the satin before attaching it to the coutil.

And it was way too long at the front, like not going to be able to sit down long. I had known that in the mock-ups, but had been too afraid to do anything with the length after my disastrous corset from last year that was too short. It was easily fixed, as was the fit.

Boning channels were sewn, based on the pattern on the original, but with a few alterations.

I was kind of hoping the wrinkling would go away when the bones went in, but only some of it did.

As the colour was purple, I, of course, had to bind it with black poly satin bias binding to complete the look. Then it was time for the final fitting.

Just about parallel lacing, potentially not so much, but look at those hip gussets!

Ugh, those wrinkles on the bust gussets!!

The wrinkles prevailed, but looking at it after a month or two makes it seem a little better, and not bad considering it was my first time working with poly satin. I do like the shape of this corset, especially giving my hips room to move.

There is another thing I've noticed in hindsight. I showed the finished pics to my seamstress friend in disgust and shame, and she asked me if I was sure it went up high enough at the bust. Looking at it now it does seem a bit on the low side, but I'm not spilling out. From what I can tell from the one Before the Automobile did hers curves up at the sides, so if I ever try this pattern again I might alter it to do the same, because I do look like I'm in danger of some spillage. I think the whole thing needs lengthened from the waist up by an inch or two because the bottom of those bust gussets are nearly at my waist!

Another lesson in corsetry.

An 1870s First Bustle era day dress

See the post on my evening attire. This year I had planned enough time to make a completely separate daytime ensemble that I could wear to breakfast on the Sunday morning, and so it turned out for the rest of the day.

I have real problems with colour. I'm not colourblind, but I just don't understand which colours "go" together. I will put anything together, and I mean anything, I am not averse to a skirt and top of completely different prints. It's what I find so challenging about some Victorian ensembles where there is more than one colour to play with. For my evening gown it was easy because I started with the teal floral fabric and quite by accident I put a light blue cotton sample next to it and the lightbulb lit. I had no such luck with the daytime ensemble.

What's a lass to do? One option was to make the skirt and bodice out of the same colour. Boring (in my opinion unless it's trimmed to kingdom come, and we know how I felt about that). The second, and period accurate, would be to use the same colour but in different shades, like royal blue and light blue, purple and lavender, etc. As much as I think it looks nice, it presented its own kind of problem. What colour did I want in the first place?

I took to the fashion plates, as any good costumer does. If you can't match your colours then you can bet that the people who coloured those plates did.

The above is what I found. I love the dress on the right for several reasons, and it was almost on my bucket list of things to make, but instead of faffing around with that pattern I took the colours. Who knew? Green and purple go together really well. The strange thing was that I'd seen cottons that looked exactly the same as the plate. Klona cotton is a make of what I believe to be quilting cotton, and I'v worked it with it before on my atrocious 1880s skirt. I know how sturdy it is, so perfect for underskirt and mounting trim onto, not that it was in much danger of being overloaded by the lazy seamstress here.

Ice Frappe Klona cotton

goes nicely with Purple Klona cotton

So thanks to a fashion plate I had my colours.

I had 2 daytime designs, but only time to make one. The second, which is on my ever growing bucket list of projects, involves making a pinafore thing-y, like in the fashion plates below. I'm not quite sure if this is a separate sleeveless dress that slips over the bodice and skirt, or it's similar to the one later on in the natural form era when it's a dress with princess seams, but the sleeves and collar match the underskirt. I'll experiment when the time comes. The other was more similar to the TV polonaise pattern I'd bought so I used my hybrid evening bodice pattern and heightened the neckline. I wanted a square neckline on this as well, just not as revealing (hah!) as my evening one was meant to be.

Pinafore-y thing on the left

I can't remember if I made a mock-up of the daytime bodice. I definitely remember making some adjustments because of my sloping shoulders, and the height of the neckline, but can't remember doing that on muslin. I also can't find any pictures of a mock-up. Whoops. I was using the same bodice pattern as the evening one, it was just a matter of being generous with the neckline and then cutting.
 There was one more design change on the polonaise that I wanted to try, and that was the two pointed end.

There are other ones similar that can be seen on my pinterest board. I should have drafted a pattern, but why do that when you can just cut once it's been made up? It worked, this time, but the points are too pointy, ironcally.

polonaising

One small issue I did have was the back. It's two pieces, a bodice back, and then a skirt attached to a waistband in the form of some twill tape and tacked onto the lining of the back bodice. I liked having the illusion of back tails from a bodice and a separate skirt, but for a while the little tails of the back didn't sit right, and it didn't help that I'd lined then in bright white cotton. My tacking stitches weren't very good wither because the lining was cotton lawn, not the strongest of fabrics, and the waistband had 2 layers of fabric and the weight of the polonaise, so I ended up doing tiny stitches all the way through the bodice. All of this was not helped by the fact that I didn't place it on straight and so in places it's quite crooked.

Testing trim

I spoke in my last post about flatlining the back panel of the polonaise. I used silk organza (more expensive) for the evening one, and I had heard so much about cotton organdy I had to try it with the day one. Holy hell is this stuff stiff! It made the entire ensemble hard to handle, and even harder to manoevre under the machine. I am blaming the organdy on the back panel for the awful way it went on, I swear the back panel can stand up by itself, but it did what it said on the tin, it kept those poufs in place, and even gave me the oomph I wanted out the back. What great stuff, it not a little unwieldy.

I was already decided on what I wanted to use for trim because as I have a lot of spare time trolling around on the internet I find things I can use for sewing, and trim is one of them. I have a lot of bookmarks for different projects, and whenever I'm casually looking I'll bookmark it to come back to when I'm actually completing the project in mind. That's what happened with the trim for the neckline. It is just yards of gathered chiffon, which I probably could have made myself with much fiddling and not nearly enough satisfaction. I was really chuffed with it as I thought it was perfect for the 1870s, at least in my mind.

The sleeves were a bit strange. I'm not entirely convinced I'm doing armholes correctly. I always, always have to widen them, just like I have to take in the bust on all patterns. I think it's because I'm not entirely sure where the armhole is meant to go. I know it's not meant to be right under your arm, but how far away from your armpit is it supposed to be? I probably should have googled this long before now...It is meant to be a smooth set-in sleeve, and can you believe this is the first sleeve I've ever done without gathers? In every project I've always gathered it, last year's Victorian ball, and with all of the regency stuff, it's just period appropriate, but with this polonaise the sleeves were meant to be smooth. Because I played around with the width of the armhole I was kind of afraid I had mucked the sleeve as well, but it turned out that it was only a few mm larger than the armhole. Thanks to Jennifer at historical sewing, I simply made a small tuck at the top of the shoulder, and voila, I had a smooth set-in sleeve.

The pattern's sleeves were those bell-shaped ones that are just dying to be dipped in tea or soup, and up until the last minute I was going to do them, but I really prefer a more tailored look. I love the 1870s, but there's something about the floufs and girliness that I just don't get on with, bell sleeves is one of them. They're nice to look at, but I am the Empress of practicality, hence the pockets in everything this year. I want to be able to eat and do what I like without my sleeves waving in everything. And besides, the cuffs of 1872-1875 are epic. I compromised and made a sleeve all of my own devising. Two rectangular pieces of cotton, sewn together, and then gathered once near the top and bottom and then attached to the sleeve.

Ok, ok, you got me. I wasn't clever, and believe it or not the cuff wasn't intentional. I have quite long arms, longer than average, and so I have to lengthen sleeves, which is normal. However I don't do mock-ups f sleeves, I simply lay the paper pattern on my arm, putting the top where it should go into the bodice and then see roughly how many inches I need to add on. Goodness, I can hear the tuts and head shakes from here. I know, there are plenty of easier ways, but you try to measure the length of your arm with no help. I do have one talent, and that's I'm able to, quite accurately, tell the length of something. It works great for hems. I look down, say that's roughly so many inches, and do you know I've not been wrong yet. I do check, of course, by pinning the hem first, but as I said, not been wrong yet.

Unfortunately my method of measuring sleeve length didn't pan out. I don't think I held the sleeve high enough on my arm because when I set it into the armhole it was too short. there were two possible solutions. Cut it to a 3/4 length sleeve, which I wasn't sure was quite as historically accurate for a day ensemble. Or...add a cuff! And I must admit, best decision I made. I loved this cuff to pieces, and it looked so good.

 For the trim I bought some mint green satin ribbon and traced around the neckline, the same way I'd use it to cover the gathering stitches of the cuffs. This ended up being extended to around the hemline, which ended up working. I have to say I am a lot more proud of the day ensemble than the evening, because of those extra finishing touches.

The bodice was flatlined with cotton lawn, since I'm swimming in the stuff, and was boned on side and back seams, not the front darts because they were too narrow and it hadn't worked out with the evening one, and the pattern was the same on both. I also had the same issue with this belt as I had with the evening one in that I can't seem to take a measurement over garments properly, so it had to have an oriental style fastening at the back, which was ok because of the decoration.

This was my first real photoshoot outside of my home with anything I've made. I keep meaning to take a camera out one day and take photos of myself outside, but it's something I've either never had the inclination, clothes, or guts to do. It was really nice to give this ensemble the setting it deserved because this has got to be on of the favourite things I've ever made. A friend I met at the ball and I went around Bath after breakfast dressed in our Victorian clothes, and you know what, it was so fun. The incessant pictures were...unsettling, but I had expected that, even getting stopped and asking for a picture was acceptable. You can't stick out and not expect to get stopped every now and again.

But the cherry on top was that we went into this chocolate shop on the high street we hadn't had time to go into, but wanted to, and they were so impressed they gave us a 10% discount. Worth it!

And finally, the hat. I didn't make this, but it is from the very lovely Farthingale Historical Hats. I bought it when I was at TORM in March, and it just so happened to be purple. Don't you love it when things are meant to be?

Without further rambling here are pictures from sunny Bath in May of my First Bustle Era day gown.

I'm not entirely sure whether my actual face is more or less terrifying than no face

I can guarantee the owner has the most posed with Wysteria in Bath

It's just No.1 Royal Crescent...no big deal, I live here. You caught me on my way out to spend my husband's money