A 1793 pair of stays & petticoat

Since I've already done as much as I currently want to of the 1780s I decided it was time to move on to the 1790s, another 18th century favourite of mine.

As with every ensemble we have to start at the foundations, and because I made a few chemises it's straight onto the stays. Honestly, you'd think I loved making corsets and stays considering I feel like I'm making them all the time. If we're comparing I definitely prefer stays, they're just easier to fit.

The making of....

I own 2 books on corsetry, Jill Salen's Corsets, and Waugh's Corsets and crinolines. I don't think I even looked at Salen's book since I already had Waugh's book out for my 1780s stays. This will be the third time I've used this for stays (the first being my as yet incomplete 1776 stays). In the book there are 2 different styles for the 1790s, one from earlier that definitely differs from the typical look of 18th century stays, and then one from the latter that fits the mould.

Circa 1793

Circa late 1790s

I'm not going to lie, the only reason I chose the 1793 pair is because they don't have tabs. Anyone who's a costumer will know the tab-fear, the foreboding we all feel when we look at our finished, fitted pair of stays and realise we have to bind the tabs. It's time consuming and hard on the fingers. I was also facing some time constraints with the 1790s project so the faster these came together the better, and that means no tabs.

The 1793 pair above is fully boned, but I was going to use the stiff-as-hell linen canvas so fully boning it seemed like cracking a nut with a sledgehammer. A reason I didn't go for the typical "transitional" kind of stays (minimal to no boning, with bust gussets) is because I need some more structure for my tum-tum, not so much for the ladies, as regular readers will know.

The strange thing about the entire 1790s ensemble was that I already knew exactly what fabrics I was going to use. Both my other stays are made out of purple linen, and I still had a lot of it left, but it's proven to be annoying to work with (wrinkles!!!@#!*) and since I was making a gown out of printed white cotton voile knew there was a risk of my stays being seen. Thankfully I had some white poplin left over from my robe en chemise petticoat. I also managed to find a way to minimise wrinkles!

Since I was in a hurry with this project the first stages were haphazard. I did about 2 mockups, but since the pieces were similar in shape to my 1780s it was a lot quicker scaling it up and getting one that fit. I omitted the back lacing, as I did with the 1780s, because I CBA with the eyelets.

I actually found these stays a lot more flattering than the 1780s ones. In my opinion the 1793 stays don't sit on your waist but slightly above, with the front dipping down to take care of the tum-tum. That was my interpretation. One day I actually need to read what Waugh says about the garments in her book......

Linen canvas, if you've never used it, is stiff as hell, and also rough as hell. I made the mistake with my 1780s stays to make it the bottom most layer, and when I was stitching down the seam allowances it hurt my hand like a bitch because it was difficult to get the needle through. With the 1793 ones I decided to put it in the middle, with the cotton canvas on the bottom.

This, like the other two, has three layers: cotton canvas (a special kind for stay making), linen canvas, and cotton poplin. I bought a 50m roll of synthetic whalebone because I just love the stuff so friggin much, and all of the boning in every pair of stays and corsets I make from now until the end of time will be boned using this stuff. I used flat steel boning on the front edges because I used the plastic whalebone on the closure of my 1780s and it's just not as sturdy.

The boning pattern I based loosely from the 1793 stays, with some inspiration from the later pair. It has metal eyelets, because CBA sewing my third pair of eyelets in 6 months.

The shape didn't come out right. I put the curve on the SF seam in the wrong place and ended up having to just make it a straight edge, which means no thrust out. They're more similar in shape to pre-1770s than any later, which is unfortunate and means that they're getting added onto the never ending "do again" list.

The petticoat was from the American Duchess guide and was so easy to whip up. I did have some issues with how to finish the neckline and armholes, but I went for the modern cotton bias binding, which you can see. I won't go into details here because I did this in a day and the instructions are in the AD guide to 18th century fashion, which I highly recommend as an addition to any costumer's library.

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.

1780s petticoats

Talk about making mountains out of mole hills. This was a relatively quick project, considering my Victorian ensemble, but it presented its own set of difficulties.

The making of...

I'm attending 2 Georgian events this year, coming from a person who usually stays firmly in the 19th century this presented an opportunity. At Christmas I was a member of the hoards of costumers and reenactors who bought the American Duchess's Guide to 18th century Fashion. I was already semi in love with the 1780s and 1790s, but now I had an opportunity to cross over.

I tackled stays (not in the book but from good old Waugh), a balloon chemise, and a false rump. Compared with the maths involved in the chemise, and the fitting issues of the 2 pairs of stays I made, the petticoat should be easy. Wrong.

The bad thing was I relied on my memory to make a petticoat, thinking I had memorised online and book instructions correctly. Wrong!

I read a lot about measuring petticoats over supports like hoops and bum pads, and found there were to ways to do it. 1 was the HA way of cutting panels all the same size, and then adjusting for length at the waist, turning in the excess. This was because fabric was expensive back in the day, and by leaving the excess intact the garment could be altered in the future. 2 is the modern way of measuring a separate front and back panel and then sewing them, finishing with a neat waistband. And then there's 3, my way. Don't do this at home kids.

Despite my continually rocky relationship with HA, I decided to give it a go. However, if you're going to do this then I recommend reading all instructions before starting. I practically winged it. I read online that you want a minimum of 3m width in a petticoat, and unfortunately my linen wasn't quite wide enough just to cut 2 lengths. I had to cut 2, and then a small panel, which meant seam finishing, my least favourite thing.

I didn't want to cut into the fabric at the sides to create the openings, so I left the front as a full width of linen, but added the extra to the back, because that's where we want all the big-bummed volume of the 1780s, isn't it?

This was the place in the internal instructions where I got confused. I thought you folded the excess at the top at this stage, and then pleated. So, no surprise, when it didn't work, I decided to make my own instructions. Because it was a petticoat, it didn't really matter if it was even, or properly pleated. I'm quite good at pleating by eye anyway, and I couldn't be bothered putting in so much effort to something that wouldn't be seen.

Needless to say, I never did the turn in method, I ended up knelt on the ground with the petticoat on the mannequin and scissors in my hand hacking at the length until it looked relatively even. Then I hemmed it...by machine. I'll reiterate, not the biggest fan of HA things anymore, especially when they're petticoats.

My usual linen supplier was out of white, so I got a cream colour instead, and the weirdest thing is I actually prefer it. In my mine, it looks more authentic, barring of course the machine stitching and haphazard construction method.
I attached ties at the waist, and there, petticoat done.

Needless to say, when it came to the outer petticoat, the one in £35 p/m silk taffeta, there was no faffing about. The American Duchess book was whipped out, and I realised my mistake with the petticoat, but #noregrets. Now I was equipped with actual instructions, I could carry on.

Length. I've never had an issue with length before, but for the 1780s petticoats, it seemed like it was an anything-you-want time. Petticoats, even silk ones that were to be seen, weren't floor length, because they were usually worn under gowns that were open in the front (robe a la francaise, l-anglaise, italian gowns, etc.). Hence, it also didn't matter if they were entirely even at the hem. This included petticoats worn with jackets, which in some fashion plates and caricatures tend to be ankle length or above.

Having said that, most of the fashion plates I saw featuring Pierrot jackets in the period I was aiming with have longer skirts than that, some are even floor length. I knew two things. 1) I didn't want the skirt above ankle length, because I don't personally like it, and 2) I didn't want it floor length because I had new Kensington shoes I wanted to show off. I finally decided I wanted it at my ankle bone, maybe a little below, but not that close to the ground.

The AD guide suggests measuring over the centre of one of the pillows on the rump to where you want the skirt to sit, and cut panels to that length. Because I wanted a hem, and some excess at the waistband, I measured from pillow to floor. Big mistake.

Unlike the linen, the silk taffeta was wide enough to just cut 2 widths (which left me enough to create the flounce I was undecided about), with the two panels meeting at the selvages (no seam sewing, yay!). I even measured the pleats by calculating how wide they needed to be, that was how much I wasn't f**king about with this project. I pleated both down to the correct width, and then I noticed the problem.

After putting it on the mannequin I folded up the back waist to get the correct length I wanted, but the excess was so large that by the time I hit the right place the pleats at the waistband were almost gone. You can imagine if the back was like this then the front was even worse. The excess turned out to be at least 8-10". Whoops.

Hem is still trailing on the floor at this point

I had already hemmed it 1" at the bottom. What was the solution? Bigger hem was my decision, and it worked. I associate large hem facings with the Victorian period because they needed the support at the hem, but now my 1780s petticoat has a large one as well. With the hem pinned in its new place (because I wasn't sure that would 100% solve the problem) I started measuring at the waist. I did have to pin the pleats a lot further down from the top, but I managed, and the excess at the waistband isn't ridiculous. I could argue here that everything I did was semi-HA. I could have cut the hem instead of folding up the excess, but I didn't want to waste fabric.

I sewed cotton tape (by machine) for the waistband, but I will have to finish off the turned-in edge at the waist, and when I was trying it on I was leaning away from a flounce. I love the pinked, scalloped edges of flounces on petticoats from this era, but as I looked at my poufy as hell petticoat I just thought, it's too much.

The pictures don't do the colour of the silk justice. It isn't a bright jade blue (colour?), or green, but it's more similar to a petrol blue, not in your face bright, but gracefully nice. I just looked at it and wasn't feeling the flounce. For the first time opting not to decorate came from aesthetic preferences rather than sheer laziness.

Pretty shoes to show off

Unfortunately this also meant I couldn't machine sew the new hem in place, which had been my original plan since it was begin covered by a flounce. I'll admit, the pins are still in the hem. I don't have anything against hand-sewing, it's just lately I've had an aversion to it. If a project needs hand-sewing, more often than not it'll lie unfinished for months. At least that can't happen in this case....right?