Robe a la francaise a.k.a Oh God, no.

I wouldn't really be a proper costumer if I didn't at least try to make a francaise, would I? But can you believe it's not something I've ever had on my bucket list, solely because it look so time consuming. Yet, somehow, here we are.

ca. 1750s

I'm attending an event in 2020 where a francaise is the order of the day (an optional one but considering it's based on the 18th century French court I'd be mad to go without a francaise). I know what you're thinking - 2020? It only just turned 2019! And you'd be right, but I'm a planner, and since I've never made a francaise before I'd like to get some research in now.

Thankfully for me, the francaise is so iconic that tons of people have tried it before (unlike my 17th century court gown). American Duchess (AD) even have detailed instructions in their book! I am tempted to cave in and buy a commercial pattern, but why go down the easy route when I have an abundance of costuming books up the stairs all with patterns and details about the francaise?

As you know if you've been following me for a while, I'm a no-frills sort of costumer. Minimal trim kind of stuff, which is the complete opposite of the 18th century, especially the francaise where trim is mandatory, the more the better. I don't mind trim, honestly I don't, it's just that whenever I find myself designing costumes they don't have much. Even my 18th century Pierrot ( which almost went completely untrimmed) only has trim around the neckline and cuffs, and the silk petticoat has none at all! The largest amount of trim I've ever done were the 3 rows of pleating and 6 bows I had to put on my natural form era gown.

Don't get me wrong, my francaise will be trimmed....the silk version anyway. But this is more of an inspiration post. What are the garments I use to get ideas onto paper?  My francaise will be mid-century, so before the big hair of the 1770s. I'm thinking about 1750s-1760s, but of course the francaise doesn't go through that many changes in the entire century, let alone these 20 years, so it might be difficult to pinpoint an extant garment to a precise year. Paintings are better.

The only thing different between earlier gowns and later ones is the size of the pleats at the back. They tend to be wider earlier in the century. Can't say I've noticed.

Madame de Pompadour was my first person of interest during my research because it was she who was dominant during these decades, despite not being the official Maitresse en titre (she retired in 1750 from that role and just became the King's close friend).

The first is by far the most famous portrait of her painted by Francois Bouchet about 1750. In fact I think all of the above are painted by him during her lifetime. Obviously I love the colour of the first one, but just the thought of all that floof makes me sad.

Then I moved onto extant garments. Now, I don't know about you, but most reproduction francaise by costumers are done in silk taffeta which tends to be one colour. Conversely, most, if not all, extant francaises are silk brocade. To add another layer onto this mess most of the paintings from the era also have the gowns as one or two solid colour silk. Obviously silk is still expensive, and after finding out you need at least 10m for one I fell out with silk taffeta for a little while. Let's just say that any silk francaise you make will be an investment.

The robe a la francaise can be fastened 2 ways. The first is the old stomacher and pins method, which was very, very common. The other is the so-called compere front, which usually attached the stomacher to the sides of the gown and buttoned up down the centre front. A lot of the stomacher's I noticed, both in portraits and extant garments, were trimmed up the wazoo, and I'm just not a fan.

circa 1760s, currently held in the Bath Fashion museum

circa 1760s, Museum of Fine Arts Boston

circa 1740s

circa 1760s

You see I'm more of an embroidery kind of gal. Ironic since embroidery actually takes longer than normal 18th century stomacher trim, but I just prefer it. And embroidered stomachers were also worn with the robe a la francaise.

ca. 1775

Stomacher ca. 1730-1750, VA museum

All in all designing the francaise itself was actually one of the easiest parts of this idea. On the other hand, we had the foundation garments. WTF is up with the 18th century and all of these weird cushions, cages, panniers, and rumps? Just calm the f**k down.

At least in the 19th century its the crinoline, then bustle, then 2nd bustle, there's one silhouette for each, and usually one or two variations on the same undergarment. God forbid the 18th century is the same.

We have pocket hoops, court panniers, normal panniers, square panniers, and all give a slightly different silhouette. I've spent more time researching these garments than I did the friggin francaise itself!!

These are my current favourite, but I have the intentions of shortening it a bit. There is a name for it, I think it's a short hoop (at least that's what they call it in POF 5). I came to this conclusion after reading somewhere that pocket hoops tend to be a bit unstable, but I;m not sure if perhaps tying them together would alleviate that problem. Never having made or worn them I can't say either way, but I have plans to make them as well (I've got an abundance of books with a pattern in it).

The square/rectangular panniers I'm talking about I think are usually worn with court gowns, like whatever is underneath the gown below.

Court gown ca. 1750, The Met

ca. 1759

If I thought I had the skills I'd want to make these minimalist ones.

POF 5 has 2 patterns for a pannier similar to this, but from a brief skim it looked quite fiddly, so I think I'll stick to the short hoop for now.

I am making pocket hoops, but I'm unsure if they're as large as I'd like, especially the ones below. I know there is a costumer recently who's made slightly bigger ones and they look perfect, but again stability issues. Don't get me wrong, I'm not making a court pannier size, but I just feel the pocket hoops are a little too small and flimsy for me.

Perhaps it's just the mannequin. I did notice with my prototype pair that the size of my hips did make them stick out more, but it's more the stability issues that concern me.

I've found recently that I actually prefer making undergarments. I know that's a strange thing to enjoy because a lot of people find it tedious and just want to get onto the actual gown, but with gowns come trim. I find undergarments fascinating, and despite the sheer number of them in the 18th century, I really enjoy finding the differences between them, and when they would've been worn.

So, that's it for my inspiration post, but don't expect a completed francaise this year (2019). I still intend to do my 1890s gown first, then if my obsession for the francaise lingers then I'll attempt one in cotton because can you believe, my money tree still hasn't grown.

An 18th century false rump

I fell victim to the American Duchess bug many years ago, so when they released a book I had to have it. The first project from it I attempted was the 1780s false rump, because I don't have a big enough arse as it is....

The making of...

The only thing HA about this project is the pattern. I used white cotton, because that's the first thing I laid my hands on in the sewing room. I used the suggested measurements in the guide, but I have very wide hips, and a disproportionately small waist, so the difference between them is large, meaning that my suggested measurements for the rump were offensive. I instead, just used the original pattern, with a few inches added on. It was only really meant to be a test run, a quick and dirty project I could finish since all of my others are in various stages of completion.

It's stuffed with poly fibre-fill, and completely machine sewn. I have embraced my non-HA desires, and it feels good.

I wasn't too happy with the size of the gap at the back. I know it's normal for there to be a gap since that's where the deep V at the back of gowns will sit, but I won't just be wearing this with a gown.

My solution was to add ties to the inside corners of the pillows and tie them together, and it actually worked. I saw another costumer had done this but can't remember their name, or the blog, but it did work, and it means my rump is now versatile.

To see how it looks underneath the petticoats and Pierrot jacket.

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?

An 18th century pocket a.k.a a very Scottish pocket

Do you know there is practically no one in the UK (on Etsy) who sells embroidered 18th century pockets? To be fair, I was just being lazy. Embroidery is the only reason I ever got into sewing in the first place, and it's where I started my sewing journey, so I really had no excuse buying one when I knew I had the skills to make one.

I, along with many others, own Janet Arnold's books. It took me less than 5 minutes to find, and procure a pattern. Then it came onto the fun job of embroidery. I didn't fancy crewel, which would have been popular at the time. I've done a very nice panel of crewel before in my embroidery days, but I'm not really a big fan. Instead, I designed my own.

Bad thing is, I can't draw to save myself. It's why I only ever used embroidery kits with the pattern printed on. I had to give up on this pocket being symmetrical, it was hard enough just drawing the thistle and flowers. The second problem came when I cut out the cotton and had to transfer the pattern.

It's more HA to use linen, but I had cotton, so that's what I used. This project came during the time when I was being rebellious against HA, so cotton it is. Like I do with many projects, I got a pencil, and I drew a pattern onto the surface of the cotton, lightly, and it would be covered by thread.

Over my years of embroidery, and obviously eyelet sewing, I've collected a lot of embroidery thread, so I managed to complete this project with most of the ones in my stash, the orange was the only one I didn't have.

I also had the smallest embroidery hoop known to man, from a teenie, tiny, project I did many years ago, which now sits proudly framed at my parent's house. I did order a larger one, but found that the smaller one was actually the perfect size. Bad thing, and something I forgot, is sometimes hoops leave dirty marks on fabric, especially when they've been kept in a sewing box for 7 years. Thankfully, it's very light, and only on one bit, so it's hardly noticeable.

My design is partly inspired by 18th century designs, and partly modern, very much like my current sewing techniques, so this pocket is literally me. If you don't know I'm Scottish, then you must be new. I, like many fellow Scots, am very proud of my country and heritage, and I ended up going all out on this project, partly because I own a million metre roll of tartan bias binding (I've had it for 3 years and it still hasn't run out despite being whipped out for nearly everything that isn't seen).

Like a few extant pockets, the centre motif is the Scottish thistle, which considering my dire drawing skills I'm very proud of, it turned out better than I imagined, which is rare. The other flowers and vines are inspired by other extant pockets I found from the quickest Google image search any seamstress has ever done. The initials are mine, unsure if I'd seen pockets with initials on or just made it up.

I did come across a few costuming blogs about pockets, although they were also few and far between, and they were all hand sewn, I think one was patchwork, which is massively HA, and I said, to hell with that! My railing against HA continues. This thing is machine sewn, but the embroidery is all hand done, so I think even that will appease the harshest HA critics.

It didn't actually take me that long. I could only remember a few stitches in embroidery and couldn't really be bothered looking up more, so it was really simple, none of this fancy stitching.

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.