Category Archives: woolens

May 19, 2026 · 5:48 pm

And Now I Match my Chair, Part 2

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.

*View B is the version I intended to use.*

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.

*I used the interfacing (minus the hood extension) in the lower right corner of the diagram for my coat facing.*

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.

I had to use the entire width of the blanket, without an inch to spare in the final layout, for the pieces of the main body of the coat. This layout gave me the the red collar I wanted and the center motif of the blanket centered on the coat back. Visible on the lower part of the picture is the where the upholsterer had cut the fabric.

*This is the opposite end of the blanket, where I needed to position the sleeves and, potentially, patch pockets*. *This is where it got a little tricky. That black “sawtooth” panel, a dominate woven feature, was going to make or break the fluidity of the overall look of the coat.*

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.

*1) I determined the dominate black stripe across the sleeves (see below) absolutely* had to be centered on the black stripe across the front of the coat (and consequently centered on the main motif on the back.) However, the width of the two stripes were not the same. 2) The only way I could center them was to wiggle around the placement of the sleeves on the fabric. *I had not originally intended to put black “cuffs” on the sleeves, but that turned out to be the only way I could center the black stripes on each other*, *by moving the sleeves off the edge of the fabric*, *and adding “cuffs*” *to get the sleeve length I needed.*

First, I cut out the main pieces of the coat. (I had Plan B in place already, knowing by now I would have to piece the lower edges/cuff on the sleeves.) That gave me more flexibility on determining exactly how those two black design features would lineup to best effect.

*I was sweating bullets, even with Plan B, when I realized how much I had to wiggle the sleeves down off the edge of the fabric* to get those black design features centered on each other. In this photo you can see the scraps of black fabric (reversible to red) I intended to use for the “cuffs.” Fortunately I found that I could successfully remove the binding on the blanket, gaining me another 3/4 inch in length – which meant the piecing I needed to do on the cuffs would be a pleasing width.

*Here is the back of the jacket. I was very pleased with how well the sleeves lined up with it.*

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.

*Here and below are looks at the interior seam binding I did on all the exposed edges – and the fabulous labels which I took from the blanket and attached on the coat front facing*.

*Here is the back interior of the jacket, showing the sleeve linings (I used lightweight cotton batiste that had a slight sheen) and how I finished the raw edges of the center back neckline.*

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!

I had to remove the facing to make the machine buttonholes and then stitch it back on before continuing. I could not have seen that coming since I really did not know early on how in the world I was going to make these buttonholes!

*This* picture shows the buttonholes all finished and completely functional! Also, this is an interesting view of the front of the coat. I was kind of wringing my hands over the center front of the coat. I did not have enough fabric to balance the design across the center front. And then I realized, even if I had had enough fabric to do that, it would not have worked. The reason? I would not have been able to balance those small dragonfly motifs on either side – or – they would have been pushed too much to either side to make sense for the design. To my eye, that balance was the more important one. One more thing… I did not have enough fabric to make patch pockets for the coat. I considered making inseam pockets out of the black batiste, but I was concerned they may cause distortion of the side seams due to the heavy nature of the fabric. I finally decided to forego pockets altogether. After wearing the coat next winter, I can always come back to the pocket conundrum if I decide pockets are a must. Right now in my mind, they are not.

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.

*Hand stitching holding the sleeve linings in place.*

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.

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Filed under Blankets and doll blankets, Buttons - choosing the right ones, car coats, Coats, fabric labels, Pendleton Woolen Mills, Sleeves, Uncategorized, vintage buttons, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1950s, woolens

Tagged as 1950's Vogue patterns, Choosing buttons, diy, fashion, fashion sewing, handmade, pattern-review, Pendleton wool, sewing, vintage Vogue patterns, Western style

May 15, 2026 · 6:09 pm

And Now I Match My Chair, Part 1

It all started with a chair. Well, maybe not. My yearning for a coat made from a western-style blanket actually started inside the Pendleton Store in Jackson, Wyoming. For those of you unfamiliar with Pendleton Woolen Mills, here’s the (abbreviated) scoop on this great American company.

An English weaver by the name of Thomas Kay made his way to Oregon in 1863. (Think about that for a minute!) His descendants, the Bishop family, built upon the weaving foundation Kay established and started Pendleton Woolen Mills in Pendleton, Oregon in 1909. In its first decade, the company produced colorfully patterned blankets and robes for local Native American tribes, thereby setting a brand distinction for the company. In 1916, Pendleton introduced the Glacier National Park blanket, the start of a wide-ranging series of National Park products. (New blankets and designs are still being added to this line today.) In 1924 the company introduced its first line of apparel – men’s woolen shirts – followed over the coming decades by women’s apparel and expanded offerings in apparel, home furnishings and of course, blankets. At the heart of the product lines is a commitment to American craftsmanship, the embrace of Native American design, and pride in its family ownership over six generations. Their products are available in their retail stores, on the web, and by printed catalog.

Back to the Pendleton Store in Jackson, Wyoming. Their women’s offerings always showcase several coats, jackets, and ponchos made from Native American inspired blankets (and made in the USA, for extra good measure). They are gorgeous and distinctive and classic. So much so, that a few years ago my daughter purchased one (with a little $ help from Mom.)

*This is the Pendleton coat my daughter purchased; photo is from the web.*

She already had a stunning Pendleton wool poncho, a gift from her husband. As we all know, one can never have too much outerwear, right? Well, all this American craftsmanship and design and head-turning apparel of course started me looking at Pendleton blankets-turned-coats from the viewpoint of one who sews – and one who thinks “I could make one of those!”

The seed was planted, waiting for germination.

With my existing sewing queue already groaning under its own weight, I deferred action on this idea indefinitely. And then, in late August of 2025, I found an Old Hickory small hoop chair (another great American company known for its craftsmanship) in a consignment store.

*This is the Old Hickory chair I purchased from HOME AGAIN, a consignment store in Jackson, Wyoming. I was not a fan of the “bucking bronco” motif on the seat back.*

I purchased the chair with the knowledge I would need to change the upholstery on the seat back. (The seat is covered in leather, which is perfect for our household which includes two cats prone to some scratching.)

I was already familiar with examples of Old Hickory hoop chairs upholstered in Pendleton blanket wools, as shown here:

Of course, the wheels started turning in my head, and I made a stop at the Pendleton store to look at blankets. One jumped out at me for its colors and design.

*This is an image from the Pendleton website.*

Could I possibly get two projects out of one twin sized blanket (the only size produced in this design)? The chair seat back AND a jacket? I thought so but it would be tight – and a gamble at the price point. Not one to shy away from a sewing challenge, I purchased the blanket. This was either going to be a very expensive upholstered seat back OR a “twofer” bargain which would give me both a new look for my chair and a one-of-a-kind jacket. I figured I would know my fate sometime over the course of the next several months.

The first step was to get the chair and the blanket to an upholsterer, which I did. Relinquishing the blanket to him, I explained my intention of making a jacket out of the leftover wool. He looked at me dubiously.

“I sew a lot,” I explained.

He still looked at me dubiously. I talked with him about the layout for the seat back. I hoped, I said to hm, that he could just take from one end of the blanket, leaving about two thirds of it intact? He nodded in understanding. He said he would do what he could. I’m sure he thought I was crazy.

The upholsterer is a busy guy, so it took several weeks before the chair was ready. But when he returned it to me, not only did it look terrific, but the remainder of the blanket was about the length I thought it would be. I was hopeful.

By now it was October, very close to the time when we depart our summer home in Wyoming and head back to Pennsylvania, a time when all sewing comes to a screeching halt as I pack and organize and clean. The timing turned out to be perfect, however, as most of my vintage patterns were in Pennsylvania – and I needed to look for a jacket pattern for my project.

I knew any pattern I selected had to be one with fairly simple lines and adaptable to being unlined. Pendleton blankets are beautifully heavy and warm, perfect for cozy sleeping. Made into coats and jackets they are also heavy and warm, but better suited to styles with few darts, notches and complex seaming. Luckily I had a pattern in my collection, dated 1959, which appeared to be perfect – with a shaw collar, raglan sleeves, and 2 long darts descending from the shoulder to the bust.

*From the pattern instruction sheet*: *minimal pattern pieces were perfect for this project. Of course, I cut off the “hood” for my jacket, and as it turned out, I did not add patch pockets. More about that in Part 2*.

I was on my way to my very own Pendleton jacket. At least that was what I hoped!

To be continued…

23 Comments

Filed under Blankets and doll blankets, Buttons - choosing the right ones, car coats, Pendleton Woolen Mills, Uncategorized, vintage buttons, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1950s, Vogue patterns, woolens

Tagged as Choosing buttons, fashion sewing, jackets, Pendleton wool, vintage Vogue patterns

March 5, 2023 · 5:23 pm

Completion – How Sweet It Is.

It has been a slow start to the new sewing year of 2023. Although I had anticipated the completion of my first project – this black jacket – to be a speedy endeavor, I anticipated incorrectly! (Has anyone ever said fashion sewing can be very humbling?)

I was making this jacket to go specifically with a wool sheath dress I made two years ago – and also, hopefully, to pair with other dresses or skirts which might benefit from the addition of a somewhat dressy black jacket. I had the pattern, and I had the fabric, a very soft light-weight cashmere (which I found a number of months ago at Farmhouse Fabrics.)

*I chose this jacket pattern primarily for its “split” center opening which would work well with the unusual center stripe woven into the wool to balance its uneven plaid.*

I first needed to make a fitting muslin (toile) and I needed to determine what changes I would make to the original pattern. That ended up being three items:

I changed the neckline to match the neckline of the sheath dress.

I added a dart to the top of each sleeve, using that method as a substitute for the running stitches normally used to facilitate the insertion of the sleeve into the armscye. I have used this alteration frequently as it seems to fit my shoulder anatomy well.

I shortened the sleeves from full-length to 7/8 length. I did this as I enjoy wearing bracelets, thus giving them a little “breathing room.”

Before I started making this jacket, I had the perception I would need to tie the sheath dress and the black jacket together in some way. Without a shared element, I wasn’t so sure they would necessarily look like they were made for each other. The only problem was, I had very little yardage remaining from the sheath dress, as I had made it from a limited piece of vintage wool. What to do?

Covered buttons would limit my ability to wear the jacket with other pieces, and besides, I thought they would look stark as the only two small embellishments on a very black jacket. I did not have enough fabric left, even for a small neck scarf, so that idea never had a chance. I’m not sure when it came to me, but in a eureka moment, I thought a fabric flower made from the vintage plaid would be just the thing to make this outfit work.

I knew M & S Schmalberg Custom Fabric Flowers in New York City would be my best bet (or only bet) for having a matching flower made. I wasn’t sure I had enough fabric even for that, but I contacted them, sent pictures and measurements of my scrap of wool, and they made it work!

I chose a 3” camellia option for my flower. Look what they did!

A few other details for the construction of the jacket: (1) I under-stitched the facing to control the front edges and neckline of the jacket.

(2) I used a black crepe de chine lining (and lots of extra light when I was sewing it in!) I should mention that I underlined the jacket with silk organza.

(3) The only bit of whimsy I added to the interior was to cover up the ends of the loops for the two buttons with two small jacquard ribbon pieces appliqued on. No one will ever see these except for me, but I like them.

*This is definitely a “dressmaker detail!”*

(4) I covered the required snaps with the lining fabric.

I am so happy to have this jacket completed. Most of my projects seem to take longer than they should, but that makes completing one just that much sweeter.

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Filed under couture construction, Dressmaker details, Jackets, dressy, Loops for buttons, Mid-Century style, Uncategorized, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1960s, Vogue patterns, woolens

Tagged as couture construction, Farmhouse Fabrics, fashion sewing, M&S Schmalberg Custom Fabric Flowers, vintage fashion, vintage Vogue patterns

March 15, 2022 · 1:41 pm

A Very Pink Coat, Part 3

Added Value…. There is a significant little entry in 101 Things I learned in Fashion School (Alfredo Cabrera with Matthew Frederick, Grand Central Publishing, New York, New York, 2010, page 40). Although aimed at Ready-To-Wear customers and the designers who cater to them, it certainly is meaningful to those of us who sew our own fashions: “Fashion customers often need to be convinced to buy a new garment that, in effect, they already own. … Value added details [my emphasis] are those that are inherently necessary to a garment but are executed in a novel or interesting way…” thus making them attractive to potential customers.

Well, not that I really need convincing to make another coat for myself, but I will freely admit it is the unique little details in a pattern (and gorgeous fabric, of course) which convince me I MUST make THIS coat, even though I might not really NEED it. Such was the case with my very pink coat, which is now finished.

Those details included 1) the three welt pockets with flaps, 2) the concealed front closure, 3) the arrowhead detail accompanying the minimal top-stitching, 4) the sleeve tabs (okay, not really a necessary detail, but a very nice one!), and 5) the opportunity to add a little flash to the lining with edge-piping.

I’ll cover the sleeve tabs first since they were the detail in question in my last post.

As you can observe, I decided to leave them with the buttons facing forward. Several comments left by readers (thank you – you know who you are and I am very appreciative!) got me thinking anew about the orientation of the tabs. Then I had an aha moment when I realized that the one button which is visible on the front of the coat, at the neckline, might look a bit disconnected without its counterparts showing on the sleeves. Decision made, with confidence! However, I doubt I will ever look at a sleeve tab in quite the same way again.

The three welt pockets with flaps are quite likely my favorite detail on this coat. First of all, I like making them. There is a certain feeling of empowerment, although slightly nerve-wracking, to cut those big slashes into the front of the coat and be confident it will all be okay. And this type of pocket is just so pretty when they are done. In addition, while they are utilitarian, they also suggest refinement, elevating a simple car coat to a coat with some sophistication and flair.

Here is the underside of one of those pockets, with the slash” clearly visible.

As you can see, I used lining fabric (Bemberg from Emma One Sock Fabrics) for the facing on the flaps. And here’s a fun fact – that small pocket on the right side is called a “ticket pocket,” small and shallow, perfect for a printed ticket. As printed tickets go the way of the dinosaurs, this little pocket may become obsolete – but I sincerely hope not. It adds so much to the visual pleasure of this coat and other similar garments.

A good view of the small “ticket pocket.”

I must have a certain penchant for concealed coat fronts. This is the third one I have made and I can let you know there may be more to come (but not soon.) As I mentioned in my last post, I was able to reduce the bulk of the closure by using my lining fabric for one layer of the buttonhole side of the front flap.

I made three machine buttonholes for this part of the flap, which made everything lay flat and neat.

The gray buttons – 6 of them, which is what I needed – were in my collection, so that was a happy find. They are 1950s’ vintage gray pearl, very appropriate indeed for this 1957 pattern.

Although this coat pattern called for some topstitching, it was minimal. Just the sleeve tabs, the pocket flaps and the collar, plus the front detail on the right side. I was unhappy with the machine topstitching I did at the front closure. There was enough bulk from the wool and the facing and the fly front, that it interfered with the smoothness of the topstitching. So I took it out. Initially I was going to do without topstitching and the arrowhead detail, but it looked a bit plain and unfinished. So I did my fallback to what I know works – topstitching by hand. Because of the hand-worked arrowhead detail, I felt hand topstitching would not look out of place. Of course, I had never done an embroidery arrowhead before, so I had to practice, practice practice so it hopefully does not look amateurish.

I purchased matching embroidery floss for the arrowhead detail and the hand top-stitching.

Finally, coat linings lend themselves so beautifully to that extra little treatment – a narrow edge piping.

I deviated from my Vogue pattern to add this dressmaker detail, but I am sure they would have approved. My Avoca wool scarf which is such a perfect complement to this coat inspired me to choose checked piping. I “robbed” a small corner from some pink silk gingham (intended for a Spring coat, as mentioned previously here) to make my flat piping.

I purchased the pink cashmere wool for this coat from Farmhouse Fabrics.

Well, there you have it. My first major project of 2022 finished. I am happy I chose pink for my theme this year as it has brightened up many a dark day in this troubled world of ours.

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Filed under Buttons - choosing the right ones, car coats, Coats, couture construction, Dressmaker details, Mid-Century style, piping, Scarves, Uncategorized, vintage buttons, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1950s, woolens

Tagged as 1950's Vogue patterns, coats, couture construction, Emma One Sock Fabrics, Farmhouse Fabrics, fashion sewing, sewing, vintage fashion, vintage Vogue patterns

February 24, 2022 · 4:11 pm

A Very Pink Coat, Part 2

The pattern for a very pink coat has many pieces.

When I am getting ready to start a new project with a pattern new to me, I like to read through all the instructions just to get a feel for what is ahead. That lets me know if I can mix things up a bit, deviate from the step-by-step instructions, prepare a component ahead of time (such as sleeves. If I feel confident about the fit, I will often make the sleeves first and set them aside until I am ready for them). During this initial study of the instruction sheet, all was straightforward except for one thing. For the life of me, I could not figure out how the concealed – or fly – opening on the front was constructed. I have done this type of opening before (here and here), but this construction was different.

Because I wanted to use my gray lining fabric for one layer of the buttonhole side of the opening (to reduce bulk) I needed to know if I could do that and be confident that the lining would not show. So I REALLY needed to understand how this detail went together. I decided I would have to do a trial run. What better use of a well-marked muslin (toile) than to use it for this task? Armed with pins, I proceeded to do a mock-up.

*Here are the two separate fly pieces, one attached to the facing and the other one attached to the right front coat piece.*

*Here are the attached fly pieces folded back from the front edge. This detail allowed me to use the lining fabric for one layer of the buttoned side.*

*Here the two sides are sandwiched together to show the concealed opening.*

Instead of taking my mock-up apart, I decided to keep it for referral when I got to that point of the coat. And I am so glad I did. It helped me through many a confusing moment, giving me confidence that I was doing this correctly. Wouldn’t it be nice if all of life gave one a trial run first before facing the real thing – and then stood by to offer reassurance? Well, you will have to wait to see the finished opening in my next post, but it is all but complete. And I must confess, I think it is going to be very lovely.

Now here is something to ponder. A few days ago I walked into my sewing room and was startled to observe something that did not seem right on my up-to-that-point constructed coat. I had it hanging on my dress form and almost had a panic attack when I looked at the to-be-buttoned tabs on the sleeves. It certainly looked as though I had sewn them on backwards! The buttonholes, and therefore the soon-to-be-attached buttons, were oriented toward the front of the sleeve, rather than the back.

Before completely losing it, I went to my pattern, and there, plain as day in the illustration, the tabs wrapped around to the front of the sleeve.

I still could not quite believe it, so I went to the illustrations in the 1957 Vogue Pattern Book Magazine, shown in my last post. Yep – the tabs were oriented the same way as mine. Just to make sure, I checked the silk organza under-lining on the two-part sleeves to double check my markings which would tell me that the backs of the sleeves were truly in the back (although my common sense had already answered this question for me. Of course, the sleeves would not have gone in as smoothly as they did if I had put them in incorrectly).

After being reassured repeatedly that I had not made a BIG mistake, I started to question why the tabs were oriented that way. I looked for other examples of buttoned sleeve tabs. I found one or two in which the tab wraps around to the front, but most tabs were sewn into the inside seam, wrapped around the front and buttoned just past the center point of the sleeve (or seam, if there was a center seam as with my pattern), toward the back. I wondered if this might one of those things which is distinctly feminine, such as the fact that buttonholes on womens’ apparel are on the right, whereas mens’ are on the left. But no, I could not verify that.

*Here is one of the few examples I found showing the tab buttoning toward the front of the sleeves.*

*And here is an example of the more customary orientation of the buttoned tab*. *Both illustrations are from Fairchild’s Dictionary of Fashion, ibid.*

Now I am left with a decision to make. Somehow, I think I would like the tabs on my coat to button toward the back. I had faced the tabs with my gray lining fabric, again to reduce bulk. I think that gray lining would better stay undercover should the tabs button in the back. I also think a backward orientation will reduce the incidence of “catching” the tab on things. Both of those considerations obviously figure into my thinking. Do I take out the bottom part of the finished sleeves, with their pretty catch-stitched seams, remove the tabs and reorient them?

*This photo of the interior seam of one of the sleeves shows the end of the tab catch-stitched in place along with the seams. The clips you see are where the hem turns back.*

Or do I leave well-enough alone and stay true to my vintage pattern? I must decide before the lining goes in the coat. Which brings me to the realization I have just 4 pattern pieces remaining, all for the lining. Part 3 of this saga is just around the corner.

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Filed under car coats, Coats, couture construction, Mid-Century style, Sleeves, Uncategorized, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1950s, woolens

Tagged as coats, couture construction, fashion sewing, sewing, vintage fashion, vintage Vogue patterns

February 11, 2022 · 2:27 pm

A Very Pink Coat, Part 1

Some projects deserve more than one blog post and this pattern and coat fall into that category.

I am making View A, although with the concealed (fly front) opening.

I purchased this cashmere and wool blend from Farmhouse Fabrics. It has a “brushed” surface, giving it a nap which provides a depth to the deep pink color. I have underlined all the components of the coat with silk organza. Basting holds the two fabrics together and also gives me my stitching lines and other pertinent information.

From the magical year of 1957 (I promise some time I will devote an entire post to the notable spot that the year 1957 occupies in the modern history of fashion), this coat pattern is in a class of its own. Referred to as a “car coat” in two Vogue Pattern Book Magazine entries, it is a quintessential example of that genre. Here’s why:

It is a wonderful example of fashion following lifestyle. The copyright date of 1957 puts it firmly in the early appearance of this form. To wit, the entry for car coats in Fairchild’s Dictionary of Fashion reads: “Sport or utility coat made hip-to-three-quarter length, which is comfortable for driving a car. First became popular with the station-wagon set in suburbia in the 1950s and 1960s and has become a classic style since then.” (ibid, p. 89)
The flap pockets – three of them – are intentionally utilitarian, but also add a certain finesse to the coat. Those flaps help protect the contents of the pocket – in the case of a car coat, obviously keys, perhaps gloves, or even a change purse.
The side slits give a bit of wiggle room to the area of the hips, for sliding in and out of car seats. And the buttoned tabs at the wrists add to its aesthetic appeal. No, they are not really necessary, but that is not what this coat was all about. It was meant to be extremely functional, but smart looking.
The concealed front in View B, commonly referred to as a fly front, steps the appearance of this coat up a notch. Particularly notable is the arrowhead detail at the top of the topstitching on the front of the coat.
The busy mother and wife would have looked very “put-together” wearing this coat out and about. Later versions of the car coat style included Benchwarmer, Duffel coat, Ranch coat, Mackinaw jacket, Stadium coat, and Toggle coat (according to Fairchild’s Dictionary of Fashion) But this coat was a car coat, in its very pure early, but fashionable form.

This pattern is featured twice in the Vogue Pattern Book Magazine from August-September 1957.

Here is the longer version shown on page 22:

“The coat that goes over everything.” Here is an interesting observation which might not be readily apparent. When I was fitting my muslin (toile) for this coat, I initially thought the sleeves may be a bit too loose. You can see in this photo they are not slim on the model. But then I realized they have a bit more girth to them for a reason – to give the wearer comfort and unrestricted movement while driving. (And in 1957 there was a good chance she was driving a stick-shift car!) I kept them the way they are as I will appreciate being able to wear a heavy sweater under my coat.

And here on page 37 is a drawing (by illustrator Dilys Wall) of the coat in red with this description: “A hounds-tooth-check car coat with three flap pockets, side-slit seams, and tab-button detail on the sleeves. Designed in sizes 10 to 18.”

Interestingly, also featured in this same magazine is this example of a child’s coat, also with a fly front. This type of opening takes more skill – and time – to make. I love the affirmation this item gives to the commitment and ability of the home-sewer in the 1950s.

Because this coat has those extra details which put it a notch above ordinary, there is a lot of preparation work before seams can actually be sewn together. The sleeve tabs, with their bound buttonholes must be complete before the sleeve seams can be sewn. Additionally, the set-in pockets with their flaps present a considerable amount of prep work on the fronts of the coat. Sounds like fun to me! More to come . . .

16 Comments

Filed under car coats, Coats, Fashion commentary, Fashion history, Mid-Century style, Pattern Art, pockets, Uncategorized, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1950s, woolens

Tagged as 1950's Vogue patterns, coats, fashion sewing, sewing, vintage fashion, vintage Vogue patterns

February 3, 2022 · 3:42 pm

A Return to Sewing

Did you think I had abandoned my cape? After an unexpectedly long hiatus from sewing – due to busy holidays, travel, and things out of my control – I finally returned to my sewing room last week. And although PINK is supposed to feature large in my 2022 sewing agenda, I first had “anything but pink” unfinished business from 2021. Yes, that cape which I thought would be such an easy make… I put the final stitches in it last week, only about 6 weeks after I imagined that would happen.

Hah… Those buttons are much more of a deep olive green in reality!

Can you tell it was freezing when I took these photos? This duo will be a good Fall ensemble, but it is not quite warm enough for the middle of Winter!

In all fairness, I should say whenever I must stop a project and then return to it weeks later, I always imagine that it has taken me much longer than it should have. There is a “reacquaintance” factor in the time involved. “Now, just where am I in this? What’s the next step? What did I do with the undercollar? Is the lining already cut out? If so, where is it?” and on and on. Believe it or not, I tend to be rather organized about my sewing, leaving notes for myself – that sort of thing. But still – the momentum needs to be rebooted, both for the project and for myself!

Enough of this babble. On to the cape – what worked, what didn’t, and what will I do differently, should I make this pattern again. Regardless – the cape is ready to wear, and I am very pleased with how it turned out.

I had to pay extensive attention to laying out the pattern and matching plaids as best I could, knowing that this uneven plaid was going to play some tricks on me. For the most part, I think I was fairly successful; at least there aren’t any glaring mismatches.

I must have sewn, torn out and resewn the collar at least five times until I realized those stripes were never going to perfectly align.

I chose an olive green silk charmeuse from Emma One Sock Fabrics for the lining.

The arm slits are just lovely, both outside and inside:

The welts are continuous with the front princess seam.

The lining is brought right up to the inner edge of the welt and slip-stitched in place.

I was a bit concerned about the size of the collar. This is a pattern from the 1970s, when collars tended to be a bit oversized. I certainly did not want this cape to scream 1970s, so I was ready to pare down those collar points if necessary. But I think the collar is perfect just the way it is.

I under-stitched the collar to control the edges.

I think the size of this collar is just right.

I also under-stitched the front edges of the lining. The entire cape is underlined with silk organza, which gave me the perfect anchor upon which to attach those stitches invisibly.

The one component of this pattern I did have trouble with was the separate closing tab. The pattern, surprisingly, did not specify bound buttonholes. Rather it called for machine or hand-stitched buttonholes. I usually like to make bound buttonholes on wool fabric (there are exceptions, of course, but I did not look at this as one of those). So I dutifully went at it. But the narrow width of the tab made turning it, with bound buttonholes applied, nearly impossible. No, make that totally impossible. It was lumpy, uneven, and unacceptable. But I was not going to give up on my bound buttonholes. I decided to redraw the tab, using “squared-off ends” rather than rounded ends. I knew that would give me more space to manipulate all the interior buttonhole bulk. I also oriented the buttonholes horizontally instead of on an angle as shown in the lower pattern piece below.

The lower figure is the original tab as taken from the pattern. The upper figure is my redrawn tab.

Voila! It worked, and I think it might even be a better look than the tab with the rounded ends.

Not sure why my olive green enameled buttons look almost mint green in these photos.

So – what would I change next time? I think I might add an inch or two in length. I think the cape pictured on the pattern envelope looks longer than the reality of it.

I also think I would taper the back hem of the cape to a gentle extended curve so that the back of the cape is about one to one-and-a-half inches longer than the front. When I visualize that, I like what I “see.”

Making this cape has reinforced my opinions about this type of outer covering – it is graceful and quietly elegant in this unfussy form, even in plaid. Finishing up this project was necessary, but also, as it turned out, a successful start to the new sewing year.

27 Comments

Filed under bound buttonholes, Capes, couture construction, Uncategorized, Vintage fabric, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1970s, Vogue patterns, woolens

Tagged as 1970s Vogue Patterns, capes, couture construction, fashion sewing, vintage Vogue patterns

October 31, 2021 · 6:24 pm

A Fabric Full of Surprises

Several years ago I purchased a piece of vintage French Lesur wool, which I subsequently made into one of my favorite pieces ever, my pink Christian Dior-designed coat.

When I received the length of pink wool from the eBay seller, I wrote her a note to tell her how excited and grateful I was to have the opportunity to purchase that fabric. It apparently had been from the estate of an accomplished dressmaker, known for her good taste. The seller then kindly offered me another piece – very different in aspect – from the same collection. The photos she sent me showed a wool plaid which looked to be a medium khaki background with purple and lavender lines woven into it. It wasn’t exactly what I usually gravitate to, but I knew the quality of the fabric would be superb, and being a pushover for vintage fabric, I decided to purchase a five-yard length from her.

When the fabric arrived, it wasn’t at all what I had expected. This is one of the downsides of purchasing fabric – especially vintage fabric – online. You don’t always get what you think you are getting. This fabric was deep brown and the purple and lavender intersecting lines were more the colors of eggplant and lilac. It seemed kind of dark to me. Except for black and navy blue, I’m not usually a dark-wearing person. The quality of the fabric, however, was indeed superb. Soft, lightweight with a beautiful hand to it.

I was a little disgruntled about this purchase, though. I don’t like to spend money frivolously, and this suddenly seemed like an unwise decision. But – it was done, so I put the fabric in my fabric closet for storage. Every once in a while I would take it out and ponder it. I started to like it more and more, but I couldn’t for the life of me figure out what to make with it – all 5 yards!

Now. . . I have discovered with fashion sewing, that sometimes time allows creativity and inspiration to blossom, and that is what happened with this fabric. At some point over the summer, I decided this wool would make beautiful slim slacks. But what to do with all that remaining fabric? Somehow, a matching jacket did not appeal to me at all – and then I remembered a lovely vintage Vogue pattern, designed by Molyneux, I had in my collection at home in Pennsylvania. I knew it would be perfect with the pants – and the fact that I had long wanted to make its featured hip-length cape sealed the deal!

In preparation for this project, I needed to order lining fabric, both for the pants and for the cape. I selected 5 shades of brown silk charmeuse on Emma One Sock’s website and sent off for swatches. (I often prefer to use a contrasting color for a lining, but in this case I determined a matching lining would allow me greater flexibility in wearing the cape with something other than the matching pants.) The swatches arrived in short order, and I was astounded to discover that not one of them was even close to a matching color.

The swatch second from the right was the closest match, but it was still a long way from viable, even more so in person than in this photo.

And then it hit me – like an iron in the face! – this wool was not brown, it was a true olive green! No wonder it had started to appeal to me. I have long been a fan of olive green, which I now know to be a little bit of an enigmatic color. Off I sent for 5 more swatches of silk lining, this time in shades of deep green. When the swatches arrived, it was a Bingo moment. One was clearly a perfect match.

The center swatch “reads” brown in this photo, but it is a true olive green, as is the background of the wool fabric.

Please stay with me in the next couple of posts, as I work through this two piece outfit – a project whose time has finally come.

16 Comments

Filed under Capes, Christian Dior, Linings, Uncategorized, Vintage fabric, vintage Vogue Designer patterns, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1970s, woolens

Tagged as fashion sewing, sewing, vintage Vogue patterns, woolens

April 30, 2021 · 2:20 pm

Too Late – or Too Early?

This sewing out of season is perplexing. On the one hand, I am happy to have been able to complete this dress. But on the other hand, the timing of its completion means it is too late in the season to even think about wearing it – or much too early. Not that it will matter six months from now.

After my successful use of a new sheath dress pattern earlier this winter, I was anxious to use it again. And I just happened to have a piece of cashmere herringbone wool tucked away for such an occasion. I had been on the hunt for a wool to coordinate with the Classic French Jacket shown, and I was quite excited when I found this selection at Farmhouse Fabrics. The bonus was the fact that it is cashmere, and oh, so soft.

Wool is quite possibly my favorite fabric on which to sew. Christian Dior certainly had kind words to say about wool in his Little Dictionary of Fashion. “Wool shares with silk the kingdom of textiles… And like silk it has wonderful natural qualities. Always before you cut woolen material it has to be shrunk to avoid disappointment afterward.” [I always steam wool fabric heavily before I cut into it for just this reason]. Dior continues, “Wool has the great advantage over all other materials in that it can be worked with a hot iron and molded.” (The Little Dictionary of Fashion, by Christian Dior, Abrams, New York, New York, c2007, Page 122.)

Additionally, I have always loved the herringbone weave. The chevron pattern in this particular fabric is achieved by the use of two contrasting colors, yellow and pumpkin, which produces the lovely and soft deep persimmon color.

The two contrasting colors are apparent in this photo.

Making this sheath dress was very straightforward, its details identical to the sheath dress which preceded it: lapped zipper, underlined with silk organza and lined with crepe de chine, under-stitched neckline and armscyes, and a real kick pleat.

I chose this delicate crepe de chine for the lining. I purchased it from Emma One Sock, which has a beautiful assortment of silks suitable for linings.

This jacket and skirt will be perfect for Fall – and I am delighted to have a dress to wear with my jacket which I completed two years ago.

And now for those of you who like to see the sewing I do for my granddaughters, here are two more dresses which were definitely too early (although on time for Spring birthdays.) Unseasonably cold Spring weather kept these dresses on their hangers apparently, but I do have pictures of them before they went on their journey across many, many miles to their final destination.

I found the fabric at Emma One Sock last Fall. It looks and feels like Liberty Lawn but is not. The bordered eyelet which I used for the collars is from Farmhouse Fabrics, as is the pattern, which I have used before. (This is the last year for this pattern for my girls, as I used the [largest] size 12 for my very tall and slender eight-year-old!)

This diagram helps to show the details of the pattern. Notice the narrow darts in the bodice, which gives such a nice degree of shaping. This is the type of detail found on well-engineered patterns, of which this is one.

The buttons are vintage Lady Washington Pearls. The pale pink rickrack is also vintage – and 100% cotton – which makes it lay beautifully flat, molding itself with the cotton fabric.

Beautiful vintage buttons like these are a good match for this timeless pattern.

Such lovely eyelet and just the perfect weight for gathering into a collar.

So quickly these weeks turn into months and then into seasons! Whatever the season from whence you are reading this, I wish you dresses which are just right! One of these days, mine will be, too.

13 Comments

Filed under Buttons - choosing the right ones, Chanel-type jackets, Christian Dior, classic French jacket, couture construction, Eyelet, Sewing for children, Sheath dresses, Uncategorized, vintage buttons, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1960s, woolens

Tagged as classic French jacket, fashion sewing, sewing for children, sheath dress

February 23, 2021 · 7:04 pm

One for Winter

And Winter it has been! BRRRR…. Seriously cold weather calls for some seriously warm fabric, and I had just the right piece waiting for such an occasion.

When I found and purchased this vintage piece of Viyella several years ago, I thought the plaid was of a larger format. I’m not quite sure what I thought I might make with it, but I tucked it away for another day. After making so many casual cotton blouses over the past few years, last Fall I had one of those “Aha” moments, and decided this Winter would be good time to make one for cold weather – and what better fabric to use than this small-scaled plaid Viyella?

It is always reassuring when there is documentation attached to a piece of vintage fabric. Two of these paper labels were attached to the fabric when I purchased it.

I have had direct experience with the warmth that Viyella provides, having made two bathrobes out of this storied fabric. And unlike some wool (Viyella is a wool/cotton blend), this fabric does not itch against bare skin. I made the robes pictured below in 2017 and 2019, respectively. I expected the Viyella which is the subject of this post to be of the same scale as these two plaids. Yes, purchasing vintage fabric online can have its surprises!

I’m not sure any single garment I have made has been worn and appreciated more than this robe.

I made my second Viyella robe to keep in our vacation home in Wyoming.

The background of this current fabric “reads” blue, but it turns out gray thread and gray buttons seemed to be the best complement to it.

Always on the hunt for vintage pearl buttons, I found these gray ones to use for this blouse.

This is the time-tested and altered Simplicity pattern I have used repeatedly – with its yoked back – and shirttail hem.

Every time I make this pattern, I have to go to the instruction sheet for the yoke construction details, and EVERY time I get confused!

This may be the first time I have actually made this pattern without having to take out at least one seam in the process of joining the yoke to the back and fronts.