Isn’t a good pattern worth its weight in gold? When I purchased this jacket pattern several years ago, I just liked it, no plans in place, and thought the day might come when I could use it. The more I studied it with my Pendleton blanket in mind, the more I thought it was perfect for my project. First task, of course, was to make a muslin toile and check the fit and size.
By now, November and early December had passed with my life taken over by bathroom renovations and holidays looming on the horizon. We headed back to Wyoming for Christmas, and then the new year of 2026 dawned, with all its promise and things unknown. January was the perfect time to get back to my project. The jacket as designed was to be fully lined, either with fleece, contrasting fabric, or self-lined. I determined I would need to line the sleeves, while the rest of the jacket should remain unlined. However, I needed a facing for the shawl collar and front edges. Because there was a pattern piece for interfacing the collar and front edges, I thought I could use that for my facing. My toile confirmed that for me.

The coat muslin seemed very large overall on me, requiring a lot of alteration. It can be tricky with coats, as enough ease must be allowed for wearing a heavier sweater or layers underneath. Also, the thickness and relative non-fluidity of the blanket dictated a looser fit. I spent a few days perfecting my toile. Then the real test was upon me.
I took my muslin apart, producing pattern pieces to fit onto my fabric/blanket. Was making this jacket out of what I had left of the blanket even going to be possible? If so, how would the placement of the pattern pieces on the very graphic and large design work out?
I got to work with everything spread out on my dining room table, starting with two main objectives: 1) The large “dragonfly” motif on the blanket would be centered on the back of the jacket, and 2) I wanted the “portrait” or neckline area of the shawl collar to feature the dominant color of red.


From there the fabric told me what I could do and what I could not do, and the best way to explain my decisions is to show you the finished coat.



I thought it would be “easy” after getting to this point. Easy is not a word I should ever use while sewing. I should know that by now. Every seam had to pressed with loads of steam, followed by a clapper to help set it, usually more than once. Every exposed seam edge needed to be encased with rayon tape. I split the two vertical darts and needed to hand-stitch the raw edges to prevent fraying. Every seam needed to be basted together before machine sewing in order to keep the horizontal lines in the design matched.



I had found a set of taupe-colored vintage buttons in my collection which, at first glance, did not look like they would work. But after auditioning black buttons and red buttons, I was convinced those taupe ones would be perfect. However, I had no idea how I was going to do buttonholes in that thick fabric. I fiddled around with fabric scraps to make practice bound buttonholes, using a lightweight fabric for the “lips.” They looked awful. I thought of using large snaps and just securing the buttons on the coat front for effect. That did not appeal to me at all. So I went to my two failsafe sewing maxims: 1) I’ll figure it out later, and 2) Plan B – it BETTER work.

The jacket was practically finished before I found a method to make those buttonholes. Because the fabric was so thick, I could successfully only do a machine buttonhole on one layer of it. I experimented around and discovered if I made the buttonhole on the front of the coat, I could then line up the facing and use a straight machine stitch through both layers around the buttonhole. I used very small stitches to make it secure. Then I sliced them open. It worked!


Are you still reading at this point? Or did I lose you back at the dining room table?
Almost finished! The final touches on the coat involved under stitching the collar to hold the turn in place, and securing the sleeve lining to the underside of the black “cuffs.”
What do you think of the black cuffs? I had no choice but to do them this way; hopefully they look intentional rather than contrived.
I have to say I was pretty thrilled with how my jacket turned out, considering the parameters facing me.
Now I do indeed match my chair! More importantly, however, I have a very classic, one-of-a-kind, Pendleton wool, western-style jacket which is going to be fun – and warm – to wear.































































































Is It a Trench Coat – or Is it Not?
It is not. However, I am quite sure this classic look from 1974 was inspired by the classic Trench Coat as we know it.
I am certain this Vogue pattern is from 1974, as it is featured in that year’s July/August issue of Vogue Pattern Book Magazine. It is part of a section entitled NEW ARRIVALS.
The caption tells me it is made in silk shantung, a little bit of information unknown to me when I decided to make my (new) version of it in silk taffeta.
Interestingly, in the same NEW ARRIVALS section, a dress by Patou also is reminiscent of Trench coat style, with its epaulets, slotted pockets with shaped flaps and a belted waist. It also has a center back inverted pleat.
Fast forward two years and here is a very classic Trench in the 1976 September/October issue of Vogue Pattern Book Magazine.
The caption reads: “Come rain, come shine, what more liveable coat than the trench! All that star reporter elan in epaulets, front & back shields, center back inverted pleat.” This particular pattern also includes a detachable lining for the coat and additional detachable collar. I believe that is the collar you see in red in the above picture from the magazine. The thumbnail drawings of the pattern are helpful in seeing these details:
Now, hang onto your hats and fast forward 46 years to 2022. The Trench Coat, despite being in fashion since the 1940s, is apparently enjoying new attention and reimagination according to an article in the Style & Fashion section of The Wall Street Journal, April 23-24, 2022. Although I am a little doubtful as to the long-lasting appeal of some of the Trench Coat variations shown and suggested in the article by Katharine K. Zarrella – which include a skirt, pants and a corset (really?) – some of the reflections and thoughts on Trench Coat style by various fashion insiders are worth sharing.
Michael Kors is quoted as saying: “A trench coat inherently feels like an old friend that makes you feel very secure… But you want an old friend to surprise you.” (Pink checks, anyone?)
Jane Tynan, author of a soon-to-be-released book entitled Trench Coat, says the appeal of the Trench to contemporary women is the “danger and sensuality it conveys.” (Think spies and clandestine meetings.) However, a certain Loa Patman of Boston, Massachusetts, says, “Anything trench-inspired tends to look somewhat pulled together and professional.”
Well, I don’t expect to be doing any sleuthing in my Trench-inspired Christian Dior design from 1974, but I do aspire to feel “pulled together” while wearing it. Right now it is anything but pulled together, as you can see from the photos of my “work in progress”.
Thinking further about the origins – and definitional category – of this particular design from the House of Dior, it seems to me to be a cross between a dressmaker coat and a Trench. Perhaps “Dressmaker Trench” might be the best description. As you will recall, if you follow this blog, I have referred to “dressmaker coats” before. Fairchild’s Dictionary of Fashion describes it as: “A woman’s coat designed with softer lines and more details than the average coat. May have a waistline and unusual details, e.g., tucks or pleats.” (p. 92, ibid.)
I’m not sure Dressmaker Coat is a descriptor many use anymore, but it certainly is useful. One thing I am quite certain of, once this Trench-inspired Dressmaker Coat is finished – it promises to stand the test of further time. I anticipate it as a staple in my Spring and early Summer wardrobe.
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Filed under Christian Dior, Coats, Dressmaker coats, Fashion commentary, Mid-Century style, Silk taffeta, Uncategorized, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1970s
Tagged as Dressmaker coats, fashion sewing, sewing, silk, vintage fashion, vintage Vogue patterns, Wall Street Journal Fashion coverage