WTF: Regency

L'amour, L'amour!

Some say that only the French can truly understand l'art de la Romance. I disagree. In honor of Valentine's Day, I present a very English fashion plate as my... "special" valentine to all of you.

Rendered in the rapturous glowing pastels of a Summer sunset over the Thames is this gorgeous image from our friends at La Belle Asfemblee. And who but they could have captured the resplendent elegance of this lovely damsel in her new pink frock? Truly, an artist of the highest caliber was employed for this plate; an individual singularly in tune with both the wisdom of the Old Masters and the inspirational qualities of an opium pipe.

Appreciate, if you can, the emphasis on our Rosie's waist. A bedazzled belt? Absolutely! But open your mind... allow your inner eye to embrace the glory of her embellished skirt! Savor the immutable charm of a series of graduated trapezoids that vaguely resemble scabby dresser drawers. And what could be more romantic than thinking of a woman's scabby drawers?

Consider, if you are able, the divine mystery of a one-legged maiden; Where did her other foot go? Why is she wearing the wrong shoe on her one remaining foot? How has she come to have a slab of bacon upon her coiffure?

Discern, if you are so gifted, the veritable Gordian Knot of bosom she boasts! Observe the seemingly haphazard arrangement of flesh... is it so random after all? Of course not! A true artist sees immediately that she represents the divine Justitia, and her roving spencer weasels are the very scales of Justice. These are poignant remembrances of the imbalance we often face in matters of equity and fairness, as well as a startling reminder to never insert a wooden busk in your stays while intoxicated.

Happy Valentine's Day, folks!


With all the love in the world to Nuranar, who probably weeps every time she opens her Flickr album.

WTF: Regency (Now with 20% less copyright infringement!)

It is a little-known point of 1807 etiquette that, when exposed to the naughty bits of another woman on the streets of London, propriety demanded that you immediately renounce all natural pigmentation as well as your left arm:

 Fashion plate courtesy of the University of Washington Libraries, Special Collections, COS006

"Wihemina, PLEASE. Just tell me if it looks malignant. That's all I'm asking."

Her look of righteous indignation only adds to the unmistakable allure of our pallid amputee, along with the intriguing addition of a spangled bell-pull at the décolletage. (Ring for service!) Not to be outdone, the glories of Lady Violet's feminine apparatus have been further embellished by a coat trimmed in an exuberant halo of spotted Polish rat-pelt and the aggressive use of turban tassels.

One does wonder at her decision to divert focus, but perhaps they match the tassels in the front.



UPDATE 1/29/13:

This post was originally published without a source or credit. Luckily, one of the much more proficient historical fashion enthusiasts among us let me know that this is from the University of Washington. I contacted them regarding the use of this image and I'm happy to say that THEY HATH SPOKEN! (And quickly, at that.) With the proper tagline and a manic gleam of self-congratulatory compliance in my eye, I am at liberty to cull their vast and awesome collections for many, many more abuses of the WTF Fashion Plate variety in the future.

Now, you may all return to your erotic fantasies of the cast of Downton Abbey.

WTF: Regency

She's a dish. A petri dish.

This fashion plate brazenly challenges prevailing scientific dogma on both the potential growth rate of muslin-feeding paramecium and the origins of the home self-breast exam.

Our lady demonstrates that she's cultured in more ways than one by successfully marrying the tenacious allure of a bicep vine with the subtle mystique of a partially obscured potty chair.


And that, my friends, is why you should party like it's 1809 this New Year's Eve.



A solemn bow to Nuranar, who is probably in witness protection by now.

WTF: Sew Regency!

Happy Veteran's Day! 

That goes for everyone who has been in the armed forces or who has loved someone who served. A Thread-Headed salute to you all, and a smile of gratitude too. So naturally, this particular voyage into the vulgar and trite is in honor of Veteran's Day. (hey... I do what I can.)

Occasionally, while trolling the vast network of images and information that my mother calls "the ninnernet," I come across Regency-era fashion plates that have absolutely nothing wrong with them.

No, really! It's true!

Luckily, these are not those.


First up: The Hand Jive.

I am seriously in love with that pretty red vine border she's slammin' down on that kerchief. I have some concerns about her choice of a fork handle in place of a sewing needle, but what do I know? I've never been schooled in the feminine arts.

Except for lying, of course. And eating chocolate instead of paying my taxes every year... wait. Where was I?

Next up: Pink Fink. 

Ahh... VELOUR. No word conveys the expectation of class and elegance quite like "Velour." Our Mauve Mavin seems to have found a clever way of avoiding the needle-related difficulties of her compatriot up there above: simply embroider without a needle. Or thread. Or scissors. Well, really. Who are we  to judge? Maybe on alternate weekdays she just likes to find a few moments alone to sit on her special octo-stool and cuddle her embroidery. Maybe she's the embroidery whisperer.

Maybe she's embroidering... with her mind.

Somebody please explain the physics of this dress. How is this position possible in this skirt? She's attained the elusive 9-point wedgie and STILL that hem is hanging evenly!

Moving on: Knits Knot What You Think.

Okay. So I'm not one of those girls who has ever, EVER, had difficulty seeing her feet. I wear a bra much in the same way kids hang out Christmas stockings each year: with hope that one day soon, they'll wake up and find the thing full.

But I digress.

Our knitter extraordinaire here clearly does not share my plight. You'd think that a woman with such... "great tracts of land" would have figured out a way to hone her craft ABOVE the equator by now. Because really, there is no chance that she can see anything that's in her hands at the moment, even with 4-foot long knitting needles. Nor can she go by feel. Why? Because she's knitting while wearing opera-length leather gloves.

As we do.

Based on the size of needles and the World's Biggest Ball of Twine chillin' out on the floor over there, I'm guessing she's making a scarf.

For Napoleon's ego.


Which brings us to: Rove, Rove, Rove your Boat.

Perhaps the most fascinating aspect of the image below is the description. Or rather, the lack of description. We think we are gazing upon a fair maiden spinning the Pope's salt water taffy into fishing lures, while wearing a tragic front-opening vest apparatus and the most unnecessary collection of ruffles EVER (bicep garters??), all of which is surmounted by a kerchief that she clearly stole from color-blind Gypsies.

And what does Costume Parisien have to say about all of this? For answers, we turn to the source:

"Cap of Organdy."

Cool. Thanks for clearing that up, Costume Parisien!! Back to spinning, now. His Holiness's delicious snook bait ain't gonna twist itself.


Furry Finis.

Here we have the curious image of a woman who is expressing the timeless, universal hand sign for "What the hell is this thing?"

Maybe it's vaguely related to sewing! So I'll include it in this post! And even if it isn't, perhaps she can somehow use it to MacGyver a solution to her "prehensile amputated monkey tail boa" problem.

I'd like to think that there are a bunch of little Regency-lings huddled on the floor behind her, listening with rapt awe as she rambles about "the old days"... you know, before the Directoire. Sure, a lot of people lost their heads. But not her! No sir. That "Demi Turban Palatine" is holding on for dear life.

I assume "Demi Turban Palatine" translates loosely to "Bundt Pan With A Fear Of Heights."



In other news, Liz at The Pragmatic Costumer is celebrating a blogging milestone: 100,000 views! That's awesome for several reasons, namely because she has only been blogging at that particular venue for about a year. A YEAR. It's also awesome because she's great at what she does. If you haven't discovered her yet, treat yourself: start with the "Pragmatic Manifesto" and go from there.

Happy reading!


Today's pile of plates brought to you by Nuranar. Viva la Nuranar!

WTF: Regency

Wherever they're going, I hope it's together.


"Mavis Whittle-Snape had occasion to reflect upon her folly many times that day, none so much as when she met Beatrice McBlodgins in the avenue on the way to watch a public execution."

Mavis: "Good-day, Beatrice. Won't you join me at the gallows?"
Beatrice: "Thank you, no, Mavis. But let's not mince words. I can see your... rather sheer shift."
Mavis: "That's not a shift. That's a petticoat."
Beatrice: "Fine. But I can see the junction."

Bloody brilliant. This solves so many dilemmas of etiquette ... that timeless question of what to wear when you want to prostitute yourself, but you also need to attend an infant baptism later in the day? A completely sheer gown and chapeau combo with a modesty apron, of course! The only thing that's actually lined on the entire ensemble is the lower sleeves. An odd touch, that. I suppose she wished to avoid the scandal that visible forearms would have ignited.

And possibly the most unbelievable aspect of this whole thing: who would wear this in May in LONDON? It's about 58 degrees at high-noon in London, in May. I would say "in the sun" rather than "noon," but as we all know, January to December is the rainy season in England.


All my best to Nuranar, who is probably wishing that I was a little less assiduous in giving credit for images right now.

WTF: Regency

Office Supply Closet Haute Couture:

This dress marries the divine elegance of over-sized staples with the timeless, understated glamour of a sunflower glued to the knee. Added to this piquant ambrosia is our obviously near-sighted heroine, who isn't sure whether she's holding her fan or a croissant, but she hopes to muster up the correct answer before anyone sees her nibbling the decorative paper.

Reasonably convincing Goddess Diana replica tiara: 38 shillings.
Leaving the entire top of your gown unlaced: Priceless.


Much love and mad props to Nuranar, who deserves better than this.

WTF: Regency

~*~ A Wedgy Primer ~*~

Agatha had occasion to lament with wrath 

 her voluminous robe one day in Bath.

Bessie St.Clair looked 'round in distress

as she excavated great wads of her yellow dress.

Carolina knew not how her problem had started; 

she only caught on right after she ---

Well, really. That's quite enough of that. 

With all due respect to the ancient and noble profession of Fashion Plate Illustrator, seriously, what are you people smoking? Does it REALLY show off the sexy new dress better if a buxom beauty is clawing at her rump with an apparently broken arm? Should we be reading scenes like this between the lines of every Jane Austen novel? Maybe Bingley would've made his move on Jane Bennet earlier if she hadn't been digging for gold at the dance. Or maybe she wasn't digging hard enough. 

Historical context, people. It's all around us. 

Thanks again to Nuranar, who probably never intended for things like this to happen.

John Wollaston and The Case of the Strangely Front-Closing Gowns

Sounds like a series of awkward coming-of-age detective novels geared for the flasher market. Hmmm.

 Susannah Smith Preston c. 1760 (via The Athenaeum) A subtle suggestion of a front-closer, but it's there.

These paintings, all of which are attributed to British native John Wollaston, intrigue me. As a general rule, it seems to be accepted that front-closing gowns were not a fashionable option in America until the 1770s. Certainly, most of the front-closing gowns in museum collections today seem to bear that theory out. But John Wollaston disagrees. It is always a tricky thing to consult a painting, particularly an 18th century painting for "correct" historical fashion. The temptation to use allegory was just too damned strong, I suppose. But paintings can't be entirely discounted either.

Lucy Parry, dated 1745-49 by the Smithsonian Museum of Art. (via It's About Time) 

On a recent trip to Washington DC, I stumbled accross the divine Ms. Lucy up there and stood agog for several minutes admiring the magnitude of her awesome retina-burning whiteness. Then I started noticing the front closure of her gown. Then, the sleeves... definitely *not* 1770s. But that front closure! It may be difficult to see in the small image that I was grateful to find at It's About Time, but the front closure of this gown is anything but allegorical. In the original painting, which is nearly 4 feet by 5 feet, you can clearly see the puckers caused by the pins that are used to secure the two sides of the bodice. (You can actually see the heads of a few of the pins as well.) The pattern of strained fabric around the pins is distinctive and inimitable.

And it's not just Lucy, as it turns out:

Elizabeth Tasker Lowndes c. 1754 (via this wacky genealogy site) Lizzie is entirely too pleased with herself for remembering to wear the bosom ribbon that matches her favorite teal deflated inner-tube.

So naturally, I came home and immediately started googling the painting and the artist, John Wollaston. According to Wikipedia (always an entirely reputable source...) he was very keen to accurately represent the fashions of his female subjects. I don't know how true that is*, but it must be said that he was at least willing to paint a puckered seam now and again. 

* Take, for instance, the fact that nearly every man, woman and child he painted all have the same apparently oriental ancestry. It's the eyes. What's with that??

Moral of the story? This is me, so no morals. But seriously! Lookie at them thar front-closin' gowns!

WTF: Regency

How do I feel?

Well, let's just see...

Thank you, Nuranar!

I feel GREAT.


This is why it's a good idea to just follow the other lemmings off the cliff and pose with your hand stuffed in your waistcoat, like Napoleon. Innovation isn't always a good thing.




Yes, yes. Another fluffy post. I will endeavour to write about Worldly And Important Sewing Projects in the coming weeks. But for now, it's just you, me, and Dr. Feel Good up there with his le main in his pantalons et guetres de nankin. Happy weekend, folks!

WTF: Regency

It's going to be a busy week. I've got (whine, piss, bitch, moan) to do and then I have to (whine, whine again, sob) all while I'm supposed to be doing (scream, piss, moan, cry.)

Loosely translated, I'm down to my last week of sewing time before I have to install pretty much all of the Jehossee project at the new Archives building of my friendly neighborhood University. Is it all done? No, of course not! Can I get it finished? Maybe... if I completely ignore personal hygiene (check!), blogging (yes, I can get even more inconsistent with posting), and all personal attachments (I would laugh ironically, but instead I think I'll cry myself quietly to sleep like usual.)

So I leave you with this, my WTF fashion moment of the week:

Hic! Who... who wantsh to play... play "Hide the Hand Under the Scarf?" Hic! Urggh.

Paris Dress? Paris Mess. She looks like Napoleon's after-dinner entertainment. It wasn't enough to trim the hem of the petticoat with 3-dimensional artificial hot-pink flowers, no, they had to be incorporated into the bodice of the gown as well.

The fact that the daisies are lunging from the neckline of that gown like rats fleeing a sinking ship only add to the continental glamour of our Parisian in Pink, amiright? As does her undoubtedly gin-soaked breath and general aura of amiable confusion.

And that's Friday for ya! Happy weekend, troops.

Sleeve me alone.

 Sometimes, even in the best of families, these things happen.

Girl with a Squirrel and the People Who Love Her. 

No really... zoom in. It's a squirrel. That was apparently a posh thing to do in some circles. More disturbing is the fact that they are apparently huddled in a dark alley and Mr. Wiley seems to be reaching for his shiv. The Wiley Family, 1771. Smithsonian Collection.

No, not squirrels.

Not this time...

Just a Friday-quality (read: unimaginative and generally worthless) picture post of some kick-ass 18th century people doing the artsy, irreverent thing with their sleeves. I love the sleeves on the two younger girls at the top! What on earth would you call that? Cascading Pagoda Ruffles of Doom? Tiers for Fears? They are pretty outstanding. A nice variation on the usual theme.

Below, we have something a bit more allegorical:

Isaac Winslow and Family, 1755. MFA.

I'm referring to the girl at the far right. Those look an awful lot like chemise a la reine sleeves... in 1755. (Granted, this painting does have some elements of the literal and figurative mixed around in it.)

Still, it's neat to find little pockets of escapist dress design in any period. Speaking of escapism, it's time to trudge back to Jehossee. 

*Sigh*

Simple Stays: Leather Stays Tutorial, Part 3 (Final)

We're in the homestretch! If you missed the first installments, they are here and here. 

By now, you have something that qualifies as a pair of leather stays. A bit rough around the edges (literally) and probably smelling heavily of cow (yeah, it's LEATHER) but they are stays none-the-less, and they are yours. 

No binding necessary. 

The last leg of this truly amazing and rewarding journey is the finishing touches and final adjustments. First, get thee into thine stays! Stays generally (though not always) lace in a spiral pattern from the bottom to the top. You will literally be lacing them UP. For fitting purposes, lace them exactly as you plan to wear them.

This is a good time to address any rubbing/poking/uncomfortable areas. (As opposed to later, when you're dressed at an event and suddenly realize you can't move your left arm because your shoulder blade is trapped under your boob, or whatever.*) Stays are meant to shape the body, not constrict it horribly. Leather stays in particular were worn to be worked in. You should be able to move and bend reasonably. Don't expect to be able to do gymnastic back-flips, but make sure you have a pretty full range of movement.

* If this actually happens, please take a picture and email me. Then see a doctor. 

If the fit is good, pay attention to the "look" of the stays next. See if there are any areas where they could use additional shaping or trimming. 

The above picture was taken the night I cut the stays out and laced them for the first time (cotton cord for fitting, 1/8 linen tape for usual lacing). You can see how high the back rises above the front bust line, despite the fact the stays are resting at an angle. High-backed stays were more common early in the 18th century, but it wasn't working for me. I cut two inches off of the top of the back panels, including the top lacing holes, and tried them on again. After wearing them off and on for a day, I decided to create a wider gap in the back (they nearly closed when I laced them) and improve the fit by cutting the back edges flush with the original rows of holes on each side. This, of course, required the creation of new lacing holes. Ultimately I also trimmed the tabs and slightly deepened the under arm area on each side.

Un-lace your stays and lay them flat. Using a handy-dandy bevelling tool like I used or even the side of a razor blade, trim the rough and uneven edges of the leather, front and back, inside and out, several times. After this, it's time for decorating!

Leather stays were traditionally scored in vertical lines to encourage flexibility. You can sketch boning channels on your leather just as you would for a pair of conventional linen, wool, silk or cotton stays and score the lines with your razor, or you can come up with something wacky and original. Since I am a boring person, I went with the "faux boning" look:

I went over some of the "boning" seams and around the tabs with a wartenburg wheel to give the look of stitching where I fancied it. 

My theory on decorating leather stays is that women probably carved their initials, or whittled decorative patterns, etc. whenever they could and as they desired. Consider some of the extraordinary (and superfluous) stitchery perpetrated upon stays of the 18th and early 19th centuries... Obviously, women took pride in exercising their decorative and creative abilities at every level of society. (And on just about any unsuspecting garment.)

That said, I have done precious little decorative work to my own leather stays, other than what I mentioned above. Some of that decision was born of fear and some was practical. As I made them and through the series of trims and small adjustments that followed, I was concerned that I would have to cut into and interrupt an existing design during a future modification. So I kept it simple. I'm at the point now where I feel that they fit me well, and so I plan to use knives and stamps to tart them up a bit at some point in the future. 

The interior:

Boob sweat patterns!

A few words on fitting and wearing them the first few times: sweat is your friend. The leather will become more supple with wear, allowing the stays to mould and shape to your body better with time. The first couple of times you wear them, spritz the inside with water to expedite the forming if you wish. 

Weird angle, but you can see how the front has bowed and the tabs curve up and out.

And that's it! Obviously, this is a tutorial best suited for people who have no interest in using an existing pattern. But it's important for the reluctant leather stays initiate to know that it can be done without a pattern. 

Things I would do differently next time:

* I would use a thinner leather. 8-10 oz. rather than the 12ish that I used. It gives fantastic support, but it's really a little over-kill for stays.

* The great lacing-hole debacle. I know better now. (See Part 2 for dirty details.)

* Lacing material! I have been using 1/8"-1/4" Dutch linen tape to lace them and I keep breaking the laces. I've gone through 4 in a year, and I don't put the stays on more than once every week or two. I've come across some better information on stay laces since I made these, and I intend to investigate other options.

* Not really a regret, but something to note: If you're used to pinning things to your stays (kerchief/gown/stomacher/whatever floats your boat), keep in mind that it's harder to pin to leather. 

Thanks for checking this out! If anyone has any question about things I didn't address, please let me know. I will be happy to clarify whatever I can. Happy Stay Making!

Leather Stays Tutorial Part 1

Leather Stays Tutorial Part 2

Simple Stays: Leather Stays Tutorial, Part 2

Ready kids? Okay!

When last we were gathered together, this is what we had:

Sometimes, words aren't enough.

As I mentioned previously, my material was a thick n' fabulous faux-suede left over from an upholstery project. I was able to transfer the entire pattern onto the suede without piecing the material, which is ideal. Since the final stays will be cut from a continuous piece of leather, this allows me to recognize any obvious issues with the fit.*

* If you plan to make your stays front AND back-lacing, then obviously, your material should be prepared in two pieces (or more) for the mock-up. There are a pair of child's leather stays in What Clothes Reveal that are adjustable in the front, back and at both sides.

You can see here some of the remaining lines from adjusting my paper pattern:

 I don't know why I'm barefoot in all of these. Really.

Everywhere that I felt a little insecure about my lines, I left extra material. You can always trim! At this point, I basted a small pocket at the base of the front center and marked the exact center of the stays, where a busk would go if you were to legitimately use one. Not that I know how to use a busk illegitimately, but...

Then, just like a Viking, stick the busk into the pocket, line it up and secure it with some highly suspect zig-zaggy basting. I marked the lacing holes and used the awl to pierce the material and widen the holes.

If you listen closely, you can hear the busk quietly weeping.

I don't have any pictures of the next part (be grateful), but basically I tried it on, laced it securely using the large needle threaded with string, and made notes on the fit. For me, the main issues were the height of the back (too high), the tabs (too long) and the overall width (a bit big). I treated the mock-up just like the paper pattern; I tried it on, marked it and fitted it several times.

See the peaky-pointy things on either side of the busk? I used those to orient the stays as I tried on the pattern and mock-up. I knew where I wanted those to hit on my body, so as I made changes to the fit, I had a visual reference.

Time to hack up some leather!

It puts the lotion on its skin...

Once you've had a shot of whiskey and decided that your pattern is as good as it's going to get, trace it onto a piece of leather with a soft pencil. Leather has a natural grain, just like fabric has a woven grain.So leather has a "straight" and a "bias" just like fabric does. You can generally orient yourself with the grain of a given piece of leather by looking at the natural stretch marks and lines in the leather. (If it's thin enough, you can gently pull it to find the straight and bias. Your stays leather will likely be too thick for this trick, though.) Ideally, cut the stays on the straight of the grain. "Give" is good, "stretch" is bad.

After you trace the perimeter of the pattern with the pencil, go over it slowly several times with the razor. Over, and over and over and... you get the idea. Don't try to save time and cut really deep the first pass or two! This is where it's important to be patient. I scored the leather with the blade about 10 times. Each pass, I cut a little deeper.

Kind of a Batman thing going on here...

And thus, you shall free the stays from their moorings. Next, cut the slits between your tabs (unless you're a rock star and you already did that as you were cutting the rest of the stays out). Mark the placement of your lacing holes. Again, reference originals for lacing patterns and hole placement. Spiral lacing was commonly, but not exclusively used on 18th century stays.

 Try to cushion the awl with some leather scraps. Also, only do this on your home floor if you live in a shanty like I do.

The holes should be positioned at least 5/8 of an inch from the back edges of your stays. Any closer, and you risk tearing the leather if you lace them tightly and wear them often. Mine were a little under 1" from the edge.

 These were the original holes...

 ...And this is what they look like today. (More insight on this change in Part 3)

 Learn from my mistakes: See how the holes go alllllll the way down? They really shouldn't. The lacing holes for your stays should not go past the point that the tabs start.


And you know what? You just made leather stays.

Or maybe you watched me make leather stays while you ate Edy's. Either way, good for you!

Next up: Finishing the stays, final fitting issues and other horrors!

Leather Stays Tutorial Part 1

Leather Stays Tutorial Part 3

Simple Stays: Leather Stays tutorial, Part 1

 What my stays look like today, after about a year of use.

As promised, a post on the making of my leather stays!

Except that I tend to ramble incessantly, so it's going to be more like a few posts on the making of my leather stays. Kelsey at Historically Speaking is currently working on a set of leather stays for herself using the Mill Farm pattern as a base. I only recently found her blog and was delighted to see someone undertaking leather stays. Inspired by her lamentations on the lack of love for leather (see what I did there?), I decided to document my own experience for the Good And Benefit Of Humanity.

My leather stays were constructed over the course of a few days in early 2011. If you have ANY experience drafting conventional stays or corsetry, you could probably make them from scratch in about 5 hours. Cost is equable to, or even less than traditional stays, depending on what you already own and how accurate you want to be.

Without parroting Kelsey's observations (which I agree with), leather stays are grossly under-represented in the 18th century reenacting and historical costuming communities. Part of the problem is that there just aren't many extant pairs compared to the plethora of traditional boned and reeded stays. But I think a great deal of the issue is that many people are intimidated by the idea of making their own.

It's not hard. It just takes a little patience and some planning.

Before we get started, here's a list of what you will need for your own leather stays, if you want to do things the way that I did:

* A nice piece of leather, consistent in thickness, at least 8 oz. (The leather I used was around 11-12 oz. and was purchased at a Tandy Leather.)

* A piece of something thick and disposable for the mock-up.

* A busk. (Anything rigid will do, including the ubiquitous paint stir stick.)

* The heaviest thread or cord that you can successfully cram through the eye of the biggest needle you've got.

* A clear ruler and a measuring tape.

* A dark colored marker

* A pencil

* Brown craft paper

* Vellum or wax paper (you just need to be able to see through it enough to make out shapes)

* An awl (and if you're a wimp, a hammer.)

* A box cutter and a nice selection of new blades

* Scissors

* Heavy twine or thin cord

Things that you need to have access to:

* A place to do lots of cutting without compromising the integrity of your home or furnishings.

* A cat, so that you can be adequately distracted while painstakingly slicing through an expensive piece of leather with a fresh razor.

* A pattern or a plan.


 Got all that? Great! Here we go.

I drafted the base of my pattern using Drea Leed's Elizabethan corset generator. If you haven't checked her site out, go do it. (According to the proprietary information on the site, she hasn't messed with it in close to 4 years. But it's solid gold. I hope she updates it one day.) So the generator! Follow the instructions, and make yourself a pattern.

Ta-da! Totally NOT 18th century!

The generator does just what it says. You'll have a rough mock-up of a quasi-Elizabethan-looking bodice. And that's okay, because the silhouette of the 18th century was born out of something similar to what you've just drawn. Now comes the creative part! Using pretty much any set of stays you like as inspiration, correct your pattern with the 18th century elements that best reflect your preferred part of the century, location, etc.

 These are American, 1725 and made of cotton. From the Met.

The pattern you've drafted represents 1/2 of a finished pair of stays. Hold it up to your body and see what adjustments need to be made. Take note of where the bust line of the pattern hits you, and the curve of the hip notch. Elizabethan silhouettes were tubular (radical!) versus the conical silhouette of most of the 18th century. Keep that in mind as you make adjustments. You will probably need to lower or widen the bust line, and shorten and/or widen the base of the center front. Lay your vellum or wax paper out over the paper pattern you've created, and use a pencil to re-draw the pattern. Add the tabs (if your inspirational stays have them) and create the shape of the bottom front.

Things to keep in mind as you draft your new pattern: Don't keep the front overly pointed or low at the bottom. (Hard leather, cut to a point will NOT feel good pressed into your stomach or other sundry organs.) Remember that leather stays are meant to be common garments for working women. You can use fancier stays to model your pattern, but keep in mind the utility of the garment.

I went ahead and folded my wax paper so that I could have a full pattern to use for the mock up. I had already determined that I wanted my stays to be back-lacing. If you want yours to have front-lacing capabilities, just adjust the pattern accordingly.

The next step is tracing the wax paper pattern onto the material for the mock-up.

 It's really important to find something that "acts" like your leather. I used a remnant of synthetic suede upholstery material and it was GREAT. The thicker, the better! If you can find enough of it, consider using fun foam sheets (or whatever it's called now) from a craft store. If at all possible, try to use something that you don't have to piece together. Your stays will be cut in one piece from your leather. The mock-up needs to be as similar to this condition as possible.

Pardon the toes. I am not a small-footed woman.

And then cut! Cut for your very life! You can see here (at the bottom) that I originally cut a rougher, fuller shape for the base of the stomacher area and the tabs. After they were completely cut out, I went back and refined those areas to suit my taste.

 Sorry for the lack of contrast. Conditions were neutral.

Next up: Fitting the mock-up and chopping into the leather!

Side note: The pictures from the construction process are all from my old cell phone. The quality sucks, I know. Plus I didn't get pictures of every step. If anything seems unclear, feel free to ask questions.

3.24.13- UPDATE! I never linked to the follow-up posts. Here ya go:

Leather Stays Tutorial Part 2

Leather Stays Tutorial Part 3

Regency Fashion in the American South: It's not you, it's me...

...which is the reason I didn't pick you as my Fall 2011 term project topic! I swear!

Yes, yes. More with the "School work" talk.

 A lady of Mississippi or Louisiana, date unknown. Also source unknown. :/ I suspect that this is about a decade earlier than most of the rest, though.

Before I hit upon the idea/insanity/soul-crushing-enormity of Jehossee, I bandied about a few other ideas. One of the foresaken project ideas was to compare Regency-era garments from a specific year (1810? 1815?) from a few Southern states with the fashionable ideal presented in fashion plates from the same year. While I initially focused on extant garments, I quickly cast a wider net for clear representations in prints and paintings as well. Because folks, there isn't much.

From the Smithsonian. 1812-1815, Richmond Virginia.

It was a good idea... I think. Maybe. Or maybe it was hideous. I don't really know, since I abandoned the whole thing after a rather disheartening few weeks spent culling internet archives and print sources for Regency gowns that were definitively associated with specific Southern states.

The Met, Sophia Fraser, 1815. Charleston, South Carolina.

I managed to find a few, but then my pathetically legalistic brain kept tripping over the date attributions that the museums (or whomever owned the garment or painting) supplied. Meaning that if you're trying to do a project that is totally dependent upon a specific year as a "control" factor for a group of otherwise barely related items, the word "circa" becomes your worst enemy. Because with rare exception, the hard-and-fast dates of many antiques, whether garments or paintings, is simply not known. A disparity of a few years isn't a big deal in the grand scheme of things, but if you're trying to figure out if the good ladies of Georgia were 5 years, 3 years or 10 years behind Paris standard fashion-plate time, it can be a VERY big deal.

 Smithsonian? 1815. Richmond, Virginia.

So the images you've seen in this post are what's left in my "Prj.2011/Reg." folder on ye olde computer. And darn it, it would have been a cool topic. Maybe.

I would really, really like to include the source of everything posted, but I've lost some of the original locations. If you see something that you recognize that isn't attributed, don't hesitate to let me know!

Because these stays are just really, really cool.

 

Have a look, if you care to brave the Met's new search engine. 

Seriously? These are amazing. Look at the phenomenal engineering that went into these! Aside from being the duck-billed platypus of the stays universe, they are just plain intriguing. This was someone's Guggenheim. Or at least their Bat Utility Belt. Every square inch is dedicated to an element of function or support. (Boo to the cross-lacing though.)

Sorry, but I can't remember the date range that the Met ascribed to them. I assumed that they are rather late 18th century, maybe in the 1780's-90's?, but I have no clue. Shame on me for not saving pertinent information along with my costume porn.

I wrote a particularly eloquent email to the good folks at the Metropolitan Museum of Art regarding the new costume search function. I know, I know. But sometimes, when I'm up in the middle of the night roaming the house for proof of my own existence, nothing will do except to rant at faceless institutions. Sort of like Matlock did in every episode, but through the power of the internet instead. I expected to be ignored because they are the frikkin' MET.(And because my email address pretty much lands me in the Spam folder everytime.)

But then they went all weird and actually ANSWERED my email! Like I'm a PEOPLE or something! I have been celebrating in a quiet way all week. For those who yearn to know the sordid details: I was reassured in the strongest tones that I am, in fact, the only person who has had difficulty finding what they are looking for whilst using the new search function. Furthermore, a child could use it. Better still, a monkey's child could use it. (I am making most of this last bit up.) But the respondent helpfully provided directions on using it properly which worked about as well for him as it did for me. He suggested after a less-than-awesome demonstration that they were still "working out the kinks." 

Touche, Met.

The Great Petticoat Question

 Perhaps our shoes are in that tree?

In the course of researching my 18th century clothing project, again and again I came across some variety of the adage "Patterned jackets or short gowns can be worn with matching petticoats or solid-color petticoats, but solid colored jackets and short gowns were NEVER worn with patterned petticoats!" The emphasis is sort of my own... people do feel pretty strong about these things. I encountered language just short of profanity on the matter.
The source of angst can be traced to two fears, namely that one mustn't "farb" if one can help it, and Historical Accuracy, or "HA" as I call it when I am in a snarky mood. (I am always in a snarky mood.) Historical Accuracy is what we all aspire to. Even the most unapologetically farby of us has some sort of personal standard to which we hold ourselves. The "HA" comes into play when one determines that one has something entirely figured out.
I do not pretend, in the slightest to be anything short of "ignorant amateur" in the world of historical clothing reproduction. And yet, I learn wherever I can. Obviously, when one is new to a field, one must obey the sacred cows of that discipline, whatever they are. I respect the work of everyone who has come before me, regardless of the context of that work. And yet...
And yet.


The images scattered through this post pertain to the rant in progress. Each image depicts either a woman wearing a solid colored "top" with a patterned skirt, or a mix-matched combination of patterns for top and bottom.  Each image is contemporary to the mid-to-late 18th century. There are more as well, out there, somewhere, waiting to be added to the collection.
These images prove nothing; allegorical costume has been depicted in stone, paint and print nearly as long as people have dabbled in those mediums. I must say though, that these depictions do not have the feel of a morality tale or a fable. Most of them are very common people, depicted doing very common things.
It seems very logical to me, as a 20-21st century woman, that fashionable people would have set, and recorded a standard of dress that may have included a prohibition against the wearing of patterned petticoats with solid-colored jackets. It also makes sense that people who flew "below the radar" fashionably speaking, (the working poor, lower-middlin' class people, etc.) would have worn, literally, whatever they could get their hands on, whether it followed the strict dictates of fashionable society or not. This is a very slippery slope; it is easy to rationalize nearly any clothing choice within that context. I refer to it as "Harry Potter syndrome."**

**One day, when I've had enough to drink, I'll elaborate on that particular concept.

The point is, it's tempting to look at 18th century clothing options from a particular era and say, "well if it existed, it can be worn together." And the reality is, that's not necessarily true. We rely upon historical written descriptions, paintings, sculpture, print advertisements and surviving clothing items to piece together a more complete puzzle of a world that is just barely out of reach. I personally find it highly unlikely that women of all strata of society didn't mix and match their wardrobes to the fullest, but my perspective is indelibly skewed by the epoch in which I live.



 That is why I have included the pictures in this post. As I stated before, they prove nothing. It is entirely possible that there is a hidden language to these images that is expressed through the clothing that I can't possibly grasp. I fully accept that possibility. However, they DO exist, and they should add something of a wrench in the works to at least one of the fore-mentioned sacred cows of historical costuming. Several, though not all of the images are by David Allan, an 18th century painter and illustrator who focused the body of his work on rural Scottish life. Perhaps his images reflect a regional anomaly, though not all of the pictures are his. (And as for anomalies... they should be represented too.)
None of the images specifically, clearly depict a floral-print chintz patterned petticoat, and the image that looks "checked" may be a diamond-quilted petticoat (though usually the diamond-quilted petticoats look like, well diamonds. Not so much squares). That's why the stripes are so important to the argument, particularly in the paintings. Those are obviously, clearly, patterned petticoats. The stripes may be woven into the material, added as trim, printed on, painted on, or embroidered. Regardless of which, if any of these treatments is the case, the argument still stands:
The tops don't match, and furthermore, appear to be solid in color.
HA indeed.