May 23, 2012 · 9:31 pm

My very stylish pants.

For several months I was watching a piece of Moygashel linen for sale by Revival Fabrics.  When I first saw this offering, I had the eerie feeling of déjà vu – I was sure I remembered seeing this patterned fabric in the late ‘60s or early ‘70s when I was a steady admirer and occasional purchaser of this brand of linen I love so much.  The piece that was being offered was three yards long, 44″ wide and included a Moygashel label.  The description accompanying it suggested making patio furniture pillows or tote bags with it, neither of which much appealed to me.  And actually, this suggestion threw me off a bit ; I wondered if it was drapery-weight linen, not dress-weight.  But the more I looked at it online (clicking close-ups of the images), the more convinced I became that it was dress-weight.  I finally decided to buy it, not really knowing what I was going to make out of it (maybe a sheath dress…?)

When the package arrived and I finally saw this linen in person, I was – so excited! It was gorgeous – and my suspicions were correct – it was definitely dress-weight.

Here is a lengthwise view of the linen.

Here is closer view of this amazing pattern.

My first thought after my initial euphoria was:  This would make up into fabulous ankle-length pants (worn with a black, yellow or khaki top – and of course my black and yellow Bakelite bracelet).  And yes, I was sure I would have the nerve to wear them!

I laid out the fabric with a black cotton knit top and my Bakelite bracelet just to see how it would look.

And here is the label which came with the fabric.

With my plan in place, I decided this would be my next project after I finished the one I was on.  Then something really amazing happened.  A fashion article in the May 3, 2012 edition of The Wall Street Journal caught my eye.   Christina Binkley, one of the newspaper’s fashion reporters, headlined her weekly column “On Style”  with The Pantsuit Takes a Walk on the Wild Side.

I don’t like any of these fabric designs as much as I like my Moygashel linen!

I’ve never been a fan of pantsuits, but some of the fabrics featured had that same ‘60s’ feel as my new vintage linen.  The reporter rightly questioned how well these head to toe outfits would “play on the streets”, but then she added:

“…at least one mainstream retailer will highlight the idea that the pantsuit can be worn as separates…  There will be more busy pants than busy jackets.  ‘There may be women who wear it head-to-toe – very daring,’ says Sak’s Ms. Sherin.  ‘But for us, it’s probably about the patterned pant’.”

Then, Ms. Binkley suggested:  “The key to wearing this trend is not straying too far from your safety zone.  Stick to colors and patterns you will still love in five years.  And let the bold pattern do the talking – go with a conservative fit if you’d rather not be the center of attention.”

Further:  “It’s probably not a coincidence that wild pantsuits are appearing just as ‘Mad Men,’ the style-influencing television show, is entering the psychedelic phase of the ‘60s.”

Well, my linen fabric is far from psychedelic, but it is bold – and reading this article certainly did validate my plans for making pants.   I also already knew the pattern I wanted to use, one quite appropriately from the early to mid ‘60s!

I really like all the styles featured on this pattern – the coat, the two blouse variations, the cummerbund –and the “conservative” pants.Classic looks – all of them!

Okay – I was ready to start this project.  First I washed the linen in cool water, delicate cycle, and dried it on medium heat.  This way I know my pants are totally machine washabIe.  Next I made a muslin of the pants pattern to check for fit.  I should have done a little more measuring first, as the crotch was too deep and had to be redrawn.  Also, although I like slim-ankled pants, these were just a bit too slim, so that was another adjustment.  I ended up making muslin #2, which was much closer to the final version from which I cut my pants.  However, I had made so many adjustments, that I decided to copy the final pattern onto freezer paper. (Freezer paper is my secret sewing friend – the dull side provides a wonderful surface upon which to draw in pencil and the shiny side can be ironed to fabric to cut out appliqués or anything, really, and then easily removed.  And the long continuous roll of paper is perfect for long pattern pieces like pants, coats, etc.)  The good news is that now I have a pants pattern that fits really well with the slim, but not too slim, legs that I like.

During construction, I tried on these pants about a ga-zillion times.  This fabric was just too dear to make any mistakes, and the more I tried them on, the more I liked them.  Here they are, all finished.

I’d say these are definitely bold!

Here is my outfit, complete with Bakelite bracelet.  (I think the camera angle makes the legs look different lengths??)

A close-up of same, with the earrings I’ll also wear with this outfit. (Click on the image).

Here is a view of the waistband and zipper.

And here is the final touch – the label attached to the inside back of the waistband!

How neat is it to sew something up in vintage fabric, using a vintage pattern – and be totally stylish in 2012? And – I still have enough of this fabric left over to make a skirt.  Hopefully that will be very stylish, too, whenever I get around to making it!

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May 16, 2012 · 5:44 pm

A Dress for the Duchess

Do you ever read a book and feel enchanted by its storyline, or its life lessons, or because it speaks to you on many different levels of meaning?  How often is that book a children’s book?

Since I started writing this blog, I’ve been thinking a lot about the influences that the written word can have on the process of sewing – and vice-versa – and I have found my thoughts  going back time and again to a skinny little paperbound book first published in 1986.  My daughter was five years old at the time, the perfect age to have this small story by William Steig read to her.  Its title is Brave Irene.  If you sew and you haven’t read it, you should; even if you don’t sew, you should read it.

This book is still in print and available on Amazon, of course!  The publisher is Farrar Straus Giroux.

Quite simply, it is the story of Mrs. Bobbin (how perfect is that name?), a dressmaker who has just finished a fancy pink and lacey gown for the Duchess to wear at the evening’s Ball.

Mrs. Bobbin, the dressmaker, puts the final stitches in the ball gown.

However, Mrs. Bobbin is too ill to get the dress to the palace.  Her young daughter, Irene, takes charge – putting her mother to bed with blankets and tea – and then, with the dress carefully boxed and tight in her arms, setting off to deliver the beautiful dress to the Duchess.   Everything that can go wrong, does.  It is snowing mightily, and the wind is so strong that Irene can barely walk with her large precious parcel.  Suddenly the wind grabs the box and whips the dress out of it.  Away it flies.

“How could anything so terribly wrong be allowed to happen?  Tears froze on her lashes.  Her dear mother’s hard work, all those days of measuring, cutting, pinning, stitching … for this?  And the poor duchess!  Irene decided she would have to trudge on with just the box and explain everything in person.”

As if this humiliation were not enough, Irene steps in a hole buried beneath the snow and hurts her ankle.  At this point she just wants to go home, but forward she persists, ignoring her pain and searching for the palace in the swirling snow.  Finally she sees its glittering lights, and as she approaches it, she sees the most wonderful sight: the beautiful gown is spread out on a huge tree trunk, held in place by the hateful wind which had torn it from her.

So – Irene and the dress arrive at the palace with much fanfare.  Needless to say, the ball is a wonderful success with the Duchess in her glorious new gown and Irene, in her simple dress, is just as glorious.

The Duchess in her new gown . . .

. . . and Irene, brave and honorable, enjoying the Ball!

The next morning Irene is accompanied home by two footmen, a doctor for Mrs. Bobbin sent by the Duchess, presents from the Duchess to Mrs. Bobbin, “along with a note saying how much she cherished her gown, and what a brave and loving person Irene was.”

Here are the things I love about this story:

1)   The art of dressmaking is in full display, with pride in accomplishment and recognition of the intricate, time-consuming, and complicated work that goes into the construction of such a gown.

2)   Irene’s love for her mother and understanding of the immediacy of delivering this important dress to the Duchess instill in her a take-charge attitude.  We all know those times in our lives when we must take charge – they choose us, we don’t choose them.

3)   Irene was not going to give up, even when she thought all was lost!   She was determined to do the honorable thing.

4)   Irene attended the Ball (as an unexpected guest of honor) in the only clothes she had with her – her simple dress.  However plain her attire, her attitude made her radiant.

5)   Sometimes a piece of clothing will take on special significance because of the circumstances under which it is worn.  I daresay Mrs. Bobbin’s beautiful creation was thus for the Duchess!

A couple of years after this book was published, I made a “Duchess” dress for my daughter to play in.  Here it is:

A dress for playing out the storyline of  “Brave Irene”.

Here is the back of the dress, with its beautiful bow.

And then a couple of years after that, I needed to make a contribution to a fund-raiser at my son’s school.  So – I put together a “Brave Irene” auction item, which consisted of another “duchess” dress, this one a little fancier, with lace flourishes and silky ribbons.  I lined a sturdy, new cardboard box with shiny white paper, addressed it to the “Duchess c/o the Palace” (with Mrs. Bobbin’s return address, of course!); placed the dress in the box, with a new copy of the book, and a wool scarf for “Irene” to wear on her journey.   In retrospect, I should have included a tomato pincushion, too, and maybe a tape measure ….

Mrs. Bobbin’s dress form (called a “dummy” in the book).

Whenever I read this simple story, I wonder if William Steig might have been inspired by this quote by Isaac Bashevis Singer:  “What a strange power there is in clothing.”   Indeed!

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May 10, 2012 · 7:29 pm

A modern American translation: vintage Irish linen and 1966 French design

I’m never completely sure where pattern/fabric-pairing inspiration and decision- making comes from.  I kind of imagine all kinds of synapses going on in my brain, pulling information both stored and recently learned, which enable me to visualize a particular pattern made up in a particular fabric.  Somehow, most of us who sew  know what works – or doesn’t work – and then we can proceed, or not!  Well, my brain was telling me that this ca. 1965 Moygashel linen would look great made up in this 1966 Jacques Heim-designed dress:

Congratulations to those of you who picked this fabric in my Quiz #2!

I promise this will be the last time I show this pattern evelope!

Before I actually began work on the dress, I looked up Jacques Heim in one of my favorite reference books, The St. James Fashion Encyclopedia: A Survey of Style from 1945 to the Present. “Mr. Heim’s fashion house designed and made clothes of a modest style…” (p. 186) It appears he was not a great innovator, although he was interested in many styles, and his loyalty to a ladylike interpretation of those styles gave him staying power over his 45-year career.

Vogue Patterns started featuring his designs in the early ‘50s as part of their designer series.  It was interesting to go through some of my Vogue Pattern Book magazines and see the progression of his fashions.

In chronological order, here are four examples of his work:

This dress was featured in the June/July 1957 Vogue Pattern Book magazine.

This ladylike suit was pictured in the August/September 1958 issue of the Vogue Pattern Book magazine.

Here is a Jacques Heim evening coat from the August/September 1962 Vogue pattern Book magazine.

This ensemble was one of Mr. Heim’s February/March 1963 designs. The waist on the dress has a set-in chevron-peaked belt detail. Very lovely!

The pattern I chose was actually featured in one of the free “flyers” which were available in fine fabric stores in the ‘60s.  It is dated Fall 1966.  I just happened to find this copy on eBay – no one bid against me, so I guess I was meant to have it!

I felt very lucky to find this item on eBay!  Note the hair-do.

Mr. Heim died in early January 1967, so this particular pattern must have been one of the last ones which he designed or which was designed under his name before his death.  His fashion house then only lasted for 2 more years, closing operation in 1969 .

So – now on to construction of my dress.  I made a muslin of the bodice yoke  so I could check on the neckline and shoulder line, both of which seem to be an ongoing challenge for me with these vintage patterns.  Although the neck seemed to be okay, the shoulder line appeared to me to extend a little too far out over the shoulders.   So I re-cut the pattern piece, which meant that the facing had to be re-cut as well.

I had to extend the length of the armhole facing to accommodate my changes to the shoulder line.

The pattern called for the dress to be interlined, for which I chose a lightweight linen/cotton blend.  I basted all the pieces together by hand, kind of in a grid before machine basting them together just inside the seam lines.  I also basted all the dart lines, as indicated on the pattern instructions.

Here are the “bodice/yoke” pieces shown with their underlinings.

This shows my basting stitches on the dart lines.

As I got near to the end of the construction, I was very happy that I had re-cut the shoulders, but I began to sense that the neck was going to be a problem.  After I had the facings in the armholes, I tried the dress on, and yes, the neck was tighter than I wanted it to be.  I cut off the 5/8” seam allowance on the neckline and the matching part of the facing, which made it perfect!

Here is the finished dress.

Here is the back view.

A close-up of the top of the dress. I used vintage silk thread to do the topstitching. It’s very subtle, but effective, I think, particularly in person…

I had just enough of this yellow vintage seam tape to do the neck. It makes a nice flat finish. I sometimes do the understitching on the facings by hand. If you click on the photo, you can probably see this detail. It’s time-consuming, but makes a nice finish!

Finally, for anyone who’s interested, here’s the inside story!

I really like this dress – it’s cheery, comfortable and casually dressy – what more could one ask for?

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April 26, 2012 · 5:52 pm

Birds and Thistles flying high

Being away for multiple days over the past week and a half has seriously cut into my sewing and writing time, but snatching a few final hours here and there has finally resulted in the completion of one of my resolutions for 2012.  The bed hangings about which I wrote in January are finally complete.  I can’t begin to calculate the hours of planning and hand sewing which went into them, but I also can’t begin to explain the pure sense of coziness and security which they provide to anyone sleeping beneath them (that would be my husband and me!  Not sure what the cats think about them…)

So – how did I come to make hangings for a bed which is a “low-post” bed, not a tester (or four-poster) bed?  The story begins 15 years ago when I made the swag and jabot curtains for our bedroom out of Brunschwig & Fils Bird and Thistle patterned fabric.  I ordered lots of fabric to compensate for matching the pattern and for all the funny angles that swag and jabot curtains produce.  I ended up with quite a lot of fabric left over, some of which I used to make a dust ruffle.  The rest went into my fabric closet.

About three years later, our bed was borrowed by a local museum for an exhibit (we slept on a mattress on the floor during that time!), and it was displayed with a “flying tester” which they had made just for the bed.  A flying tester is a wooden frame on which hangings can be affixed; the wooden frame is suspended by ropes from iron hooks in the ceiling.

Here are the two wrought-iron hooks which we affixed into our ceiling. You can also see just a bit of one of the windows with the swag and jabot curtains.

This photo shows the roping which suspends the frame from the ceiling.

Although not common, in the 18th century flying testers were an ingenious way to dress a low-post bed for the winter – with heavy wool or linen  hangings – or in the hot summers – with airy curtains to keep the flying bugs out.  There is an example of a ceiling hook for a flying tester at Stenton in Philadelphia. (Stenton is the historic home of James Logan, 1674-1751, who was Secretary to William Penn, founder of Pennsylvania.)  And imagine my surprise when just recently I saw an ad in House Beautiful Magazine which showed a modern bed with a flying tester!

This ad for the Apple version of House Beautiful features a modern "flying tester".

After the exhibit was dismantled, we were generously offered the tester frame, which we wrapped in plastic and put in storage.  I started thinking how neat it would be to make hangings some day, but somehow the years passed by.  Perhaps I needed some inspiration to tackle what I knew was going to be a big, somewhat intimidating project.  Well – the inspiration came in two parts.  First I came across a pair of pieced pillowcases, which date to about 1800-1820.  One of the fabrics in them is – you guessed it – some 18th-century Bird and Thistle fabric (which was imported to America from England).  These pieces were in blue, not red like my curtains, which is one of several colorways in which the fabric is available now.

Can you see the blue bird and the vines and thistles nestled among the variable star pieced blocks?

Here is another view of the same pillow case. A hand-written note was attached to each one, which I left intact.

Because of the age of the pillowcases, and the visual quality of them, I had them framed so I could hang them as artwork in our bedroom.

Here is one framed case...

... and here is the other one.

Hmmmm – now wouldn’t Bird and Thistle-patterned bed hangings look so good with those framed cases flanking the bed?  The wheels in my brain were turning.

Inspiration number 2 came when the air-conditioning in our bedroom had to be replaced during a very hot summer.  Until the work could be completed, we moved into our grown son’s old room, where the AC was still going strong.  I had already made simple hangings for his tester bed  – and the pleasure of sleeping under that canopy convinced me that it was time to turn my thoughts into reality!

Here are some of the challenges I faced and how I made the hangings:

1)   After measuring and thinking and measuring some more, I knew I didn’t have enough fabric left over from the curtains to complete the hangings, although I was close!  I knew I could do some careful piecing and re-sectioning to match and cut out everything (three valences and the back curtain) except for the side curtains.  I went on eBay and found a length of the same fabric which would suffice for the side curtains, if I lined them in another fabric.  (The piece I found on eBay was of another dye lot, of course, but the difference was slight so I decided it would work.) I found a linen blend in solid red which I determined would be perfect for the taping (which would finish every exposed edge) and for lining the side curtains.

2)   I based my valence pattern on the shape of the headboard in reverse.  To compensate for the longer side valences, I added two more “scallops”, which fit perfectly mathematically!  That was the easiest part of the entire project.

Here is the end valence hung on the frame. Hopefully you can see the design of the headboard mirrored in reverse in the valence.

3)   I proceeded to apply the red taping (which I cut on the bias) to all the edges.  This was all handwork and every edge had to be sewn twice, once on the front and once on the back.

4)   I applied Velcro tape on the hanging edge of each piece. It doesn’t show if you apply it on the front side and flip it over from the top. I had already applied the rough Velcro side to the wooden frame by first gluing it and then stapling it.

Here is one of the side valences pulled away so that you can see how I applied the velcro.

5)   After I lined the side curtains and applied the bias tape to them, I attached brass rings, as one would do with an 18th-century-style “drapery” curtain.  Simple cotton kitchen string is attached to the ring at the front edge and threaded through the rest of the rings. That way the curtains can be drawn up and attached to the hooks on the top of the frame.

The brass rings, attached to the lining side of the side curtains are strung with cotton string.

Here you can see the placement of the brass rings, which determines the drape of the curtain when it is pulled up.

And here is one of the side curtains, shown pulled up and attached to hold the desired drape of the fabric.

6)   Voila – Project complete.  It only took about 12 years…!

All dressed up and nowhere to go!

One more photo to show the framed pillowcases on either side of the bed.

I’m very glad our 18th-century bed is finally dressed – and I’m pleased with the way it looks.  NOW I can get back to sewing mid-century styles instead of 18th-century ones!

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April 13, 2012 · 4:50 pm

What would Christian Dior do?

Without a doubt, the two dresses featured above left in my blog heading were inspired by the designs of Christian Dior.  This return to the feminine silhouette was led by Mr. Dior, starting in 1947, and it continues to influence fashion to this day.   In 1954, he published a small book entitled The Little Dictionary of Fashion, which was reprinted in 2007 by Abrams (and available at Amazon.).

Some of the language and expressions in this little book seem a bit old-fashioned, but it contains a wealth of information and advice.

It is really a combination of fashion and sewing terms, accompanied by his philosophy of life.   Here is a sampling of topics:

Bodices:  “… the most important part of any garment….”

Cosmetics:  “… play a very big part in the secret of beauty, but they mustn’t show…”

Emphasis:  “If you have a particularly outstanding feature it is always a good thing to emphasize it….  The whole of fashion is emphasis – emphasis on woman’s loveliness.”  [I think this is very sweet!]

Handbags:  “ A very important accessory and used with not enough care by too many women.”

Jackets:  “…must always be worn with a slim skirt…”

J is for Jacket!

J is for Jacket!

Key to Good Dressing:  “There is no key…  but simplicity, grooming and good taste – [are] the three fundamentals of fashion…”

This Dior outfit is described this way: "simple black suit, matching gloves and muff, and hat and scarf, in vivid cerise." Dressing beautifully, indeed!

Materials:  “You can never take too much care of the materials you choose to make a dress…”  [In this entry, he seems to be addressing the home sewer!]

Pockets:  “… pockets are very useful to help you to do something with your hands if you are embarrassed and don’t know what to do with them.”

The Way You Walk:  “… can make or mar your clothes – cultivate gracefulness.”

And my favorite:

Zest:  “…You have to live with zest — and that is the secret of beauty and fashion, too.”

Although Mr. Dior died in 1957 at the height of his career, his eponymous couture house has, as everyone knows, continued over the years under the direction of many different artistic directors.  Just this week the newest Creative Director for the House of Dior was announced.  Although I am a casual follower of current fashion (mostly to see how the vintage looks influence today’s looks), I was pleased to see that Mr. Raf Simons has been selected to head Dior.  I thought the designs he did for Jil Sander  over the past few years were among the most flattering that have appeared on the runway.  His selection is detailed in a fascinating article by Christina Passariello, which appeared in The Wall Street Journal on Tuesday, April 10, page B4.  (By the way, The Wall Street Journal has terrific fashion coverage and advice, specifically in the Thursday and Weekend editions, as well as other times.)

Here is what the cover of Vogue Pattern Book magazine looked like in October, 1957, the month and year of Christian Dior's death.

Mr. Simons’ first designs for Dior will debut in July.   I wonder if he is now asking himself “What would Christian Dior do?”

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April 6, 2012 · 10:07 pm

Quiz #2: Match the fabric to the pattern

Of all my sewing projects, which are either in the works or in the planning stages, two of them will be completed shortly. (At least I hope they will be.  Everything always seems to take longer than I anticipate…  Does anyone else find that to be true?)   However, I’m just not ready to report on either of these “almost-finished” endeavors yet.  . . . So I thought I would take this opportunity to expand a bit on my infatuation with Moygashel linen – and give you, my readers, some more beautiful vintage fabrics to see – and to allow you to imagine them all dressed up and ready to wear.

In the Vogue Pattern Book from Summer of 1957, one of the articles implores the reader to “consider the crispness of LINEN”.

This June/July issue is perfect to feature linen - it is a great fabric for Summer - cool, crisp, washable, and the perfect weight for dresses and suits.

Articles like this, and ads for linen fabrics, showcase the popularity of sewing with linen in the 1950s, ‘60s, and ‘70s.  I shared a few Moygashel linen ads with you recently, and here are three more, which illustrate the range of designs and colors available to the mid-century home sewer.

This almost whimsical illustration depicts four designs of Moygashel linen. It appeared in the February/March 1958 issue of Vogue Pattern Book magazine.

This ad states: "Your precious handiwork can convert this Vogue Pattern into an heirloom, because you know that Moygashel Linen defies wear." Those words were certainly presentient! It appeared in the April/May 1953 Vogue Pattern Book magazine.

Here are four more Moygashel linens, featured in the February/March 1957 Vogue Pattern Book magazine.

I certainly decided to “consider” linen when I purchased this 1965 Vogue pattern a few months ago:

This pattern is for a paring of coat and dress, but the dress stands alone beautifully.

My intention was to make the dress only – a lovely sheath with some distinctive seaming and top-stitching.  So I went to my fabric closet to see what linens I could “consider” for a crisp Spring/Summer dress.  Here are the four that I decided to choose from:

#1 - Bright and sunny, this design is a subtle play on the polka dot theme.

#2 - The colors in this design are very 2012-current-and- fashionable!

#3 - Decorative topstitching on this solid pink linen would be quite attractive.

#4 - This geometric print is probably from the late '60s, so it would make up beautifully in a pattern from the '60s!

Which fabric would you choose for this dress pattern?  Which one do you think I chose to make into this dress?

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March 30, 2012 · 9:45 pm

Give me Liberty . . .

. . .  and I’ll make a dress!  Of course, I’m referring to Liberty cottons, one of the great fabrics of the world.  There is, as most of you already know, more to Liberty than just cottons – they make silks, too, and one look at their website will introduce you to the full range of Liberty products, appeal, and mystique.  It is so exciting to me to realize that this company, which was founded in 1875, is still producing some of the finest quality fabrics in the world. Their most famous fabric is that cotton, more properly referred to as Tana Lawn.  Here I quote from The Liberty Book of Home Sewing (about which I’ll tell you more shortly):

“Tana Lawn   Synonymous with Liberty, this 100% cotton fabric has a very fine thread count and soft, silky feel.  New print designs are created each season, heritage classics are continuously reworked, and there is also an array of coordinating plain colors.”

It just so happens that I lucked into two pieces of Tana Lawn, originally purchased by a relative in the ‘60s, and tucked away, unused, into a bureau drawer.  When the contents of that drawer were being emptied about a decade later, I was the happy recipient.  At that point in time, Tana Lawn was only 35” wide, so in order to make a dress or blouse, it was necessary to have a good bit of yardage at one’s disposal, to compensate for the narrow width.  Of course, the piece I liked the best had the least yardage:

I find the colors and design of this cotton so appealing.

It sat in my fabric drawer for about another 12 or 15 years, until I finally made it into a dress for my daughter when she was about 8 years old.

The only reason I saved this dress is because of its vintage Liberty fabric.

The second piece had a bit more yardage to it, but it, too, sat in my fabric closet, until last Summer, when I finally decided I would make myself a dress.

This is the same fabric design in different colors.

I knew it would have to be sleeveless, and I envisioned a simple belted bodice with some fullness in the skirt.  The only pattern I could find which came close was this Butterick one:

I chose this pattern primarily for the bodice in View A (the blue one).

Then I began making alterations to it:  a few soft pleats for the skirt instead of all that fullness; I wanted to add pockets in the side seams; to add pockets, I had to move the zipper from the side to the back, which also made it easier for me to fit the pattern pieces onto the narrow fabric. Finally, I wanted it lined, which I did with a very lightweight white cotton lawn.  Here’s how it turned out:

I did not have enough fabric left to make a self belt, so I have worn it with one I already have, until I can find one I like better!

I really like the back of this dress.

Here is a close-up of the back neckline.

Well, it seems I am always rediscovering pieces of fabric in my extensive collection, and although I have known this fabric was there, it always seems like a new discovery when something so pretty surfaces again.  I purchased this piece of Tana Lawn in Bermuda (probably at Trimingham’s, now unfortunately out of business) sometime in the 1980s.

I still love this fabric over twenty-five years after purchasing it!

I could never decide on a pattern to use for it – those ’80 styles were just too awful.  So this fabric is another one of those “Thank goodness I never made this!”  Although it is also just 35” wide, I have a plentiful 4½ yards so I should be able to pair it with a vintage pattern from the ‘50s or ‘60s – I’m still looking and deciding…  Ideas, anyone?  (Interestingly, Liberty apparently changed their production in the early 1990s, and now their Tana Lawn is 44” wide.)

Now, about that afore-mentioned book:  last Summer I was browsing books on sewing and fashion on Amazon, and The Liberty Book of Home Sewing popped up for pre-order.  Being a complete push-over for any books which showcase beautiful fabrics, I signed up for it and it arrived in October.  Of the 25 projects featured, my favorites are the vintage ‘50s look apron on the cover and the peacock pincushion.

This is the cover of the hardback book, showing the frilly '50s' style apron.

And here is the whimsical peacock pincushion project.

What I really like about this book, however, are the full-page representations of Liberty cottons; the Glossary of Fabrics, which includes a little history about each featured design; and the Foreword, which includes a history of the production of Tana Lawn.

Here is one page of the Glossary of Fabrics.

Finally – one last thing:  when I purchased my Liberty fabric in Bermuda, this label came with it:

This tag is small, but packs a powerful message! I'll definitely be sewing it into whatever dress I eventually make.

What is it about a label that can give a fabric or pattern purchase – and ultimately the finished garment – its own persona?  How can something so small add so much validation and completeness to the dressmaker’s labor of love?

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Filed under 1980's dress patterns, Liberty cotton, side-placed zippers, Uncategorized

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March 23, 2012 · 10:25 pm

Shopping in my (cedar) closet.

In the 1940s, ‘50s, ‘60s and ‘70s, most well appointed ladies’ closets contained at least one dress or suit made from Moygashel linen.  The cachet around this product of Ireland was legendary:  it was touted as crease resistant, made so by  a special process in its manufacture which used soft rainwater from the streams in the Mourne Mountains of northern Ireland.    It has many virtues, including:

1)   it was available in many beautiful solid colors…

2)   and in amazing prints, which by themselves are like mini works of art….

3)   and in embroidered designs, which are still today instantly recognizable as Moygashel.

4)   It is machine washable.

5)   It does not wrinkle, truly!!

6)   It lasts and lasts.

It’s no wonder that designers and high-end ready-to-wear garment manufacturers used Moygashel linen and proudly displayed the name of Moygashel along with, and in addition to, their own labels.

Luckily for the home sewer and dressmaker, Moygashel linen was also available in yardage at the finest fabric stores and departments.  Obviously home sewers took to it readily.  Artful, full-page ads for Moygashel linen in sewing and pattern magazines were commonplace.  Here are a few that were given up-front placement in issues of the Vogue Pattern Book magazine from various dates in the ‘60s:

This ad was featured in the February/March 1961 issue of Vogue Pattern Book magazine. The dress illustrated is a Vogue pattern from the designer series. I love that this ad shows 5 different linens available for purchase.

This ad appeared in the February/March 1963 issue of Vogue pattern Book. It has such a sophisticated look to it, which was a hallmark of Moygashel ads.

Occasionally Moygashel ads would feature a real model, such as this one from the April/May 1963 issue of Vogue pattern Book.

As I am a big fan of the color pink, I'm particularly fond of the linens featured in this ad from the February/March 1964 Vogue Pattern Book.

As I began to do more and more serious sewing for myself in the late ‘60s, I, too, took notice of Moygashel linen, which started my long love-affair with it.  I was even fortunate enough to purchase a few select pieces in the 70’s: I made dresses and suits and skirts, most of which I no longer have.  However, my current renewed interest in sewing and mid-century fashion and patterns led me to my cedar closet with a fresh eye.  So what did I find in that fragrant repository of out-of-season, out-of-date, and too-sentimental-to-give-away clothing ?  In reverse chronological order, here are three Moygashel treasures:

1)   Carefully packed away in a box I found an almost-completed jacket and unfinished skirt, complete with pattern and pins and thread.  Here is the pattern, which is from 1981:

The jacket of this pattern looks just as stylish today as it did in 1981. I'm not sure why I never finished it three decades ago.

Last Spring I (finally) completed the jacket, with buttons and a few stitches here and there,  and it is now a valued member of my Spring and Summer wardrobe.  I’ll probably recycle the skirt fabric into something else, still to be determined.

I am also a big fan of the color red, so I couldn't be more pleased that I chose this red for this jacket so many years ago.

Here is a close-up of my 1981 jacket. I hope you can see the beautiful quality of the linen.

2)  My mother-in-law was a lady of great taste in clothes, and although she did not sew, she would occasionally have her “dear little German dressmaker” make something special for her.  I told her about the wonderful fabrics available at Stapler’s on Walnut Street in Philadelphia, and I believe she made some fabric purchases in combination with one of her many day trips with friends to the city and to the Forrest Theatre.   One of her purchases (circa 1975) was a colorful piece of Moygashel linen, from which she had a long “hostess” skirt made.  I eventually ended up with this skirt, which I took apart and remade two years ago into this shorter version:

The colors and design in this fabric are so eye-catching.

Here is a close-up of the skirt fabric, which is quintessential '70s!

Here is the back of my re-made skirt.

3)   In 1973, I made my own purchase of Moygashel linen at Stapler’s, this one for a dress to accompany me on my honeymoon:

This simple A-line dress, with raglan sleeves, was made from a Vogue pattern, long gone. Ankle-length dresses like this were very fashionable in 1973.

Here is a back view of the dress. The zipper is metal (that really dates me!) which I inserted by hand.

A few years later I made a belt to wear with it, to “update” it a bit, but since then it has hung in my cedar closet, a sweet reminder of years past.

This photo shows the dress belted. The bright, bold print of this linen makes a statement.

Somehow what fit me in my twenties just doesn’t look the same in my early sixties.  Imagine that!   So this dress, made from one of Moygashel’s classically timeless linens, is in that category of “too-sentimental-to-give-away”.  But now I wonder.  Should I remake it into something I can wear and use?  Would I have the nerve to cut it apart?  Should I be practical or nostalgic?  Whoever knew that the contents of a cedar closet could pose such existential questions to ponder? What should I do?

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Filed under Linen, Uncategorized, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1960s, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1970s, Vogue patterns

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March 16, 2012 · 4:51 pm

Can you zip me up, please?

This is a completely unscientific observation, but it seems to me that the zipper has made a fairly substantial migration over the years – from the side of the dress – to the back of the dress.  If that sounds confusing, let me explain a bit more, by showing you some of my dress patterns which date from the 1950s.  All of these dresses feature a side zipper, placed a few inches under the left arm and extending a few inches below the waist (or, in other words, these zippers open within a garment seam.).

I love the clean lines of this dress from 1957, with the "yoke" effect which extends into the kimono sleeves. The back of the envelope shows more detail.

You can see from this back view that, although the top back yoke buttons, a side zipper is still necessary to get the dress on!

The front on this dress only opens to the waist, so a side zipper enables one to step into it. This pattern is dated 1957.

The back detail on this evening gown from 1958 would have been interrupted by a center back zipper, but a side zipper preserves the designer's intent.

I love this dress design from 1957, which simply would not work using a center back zipper.

Patterns from the last half of the 1960s start to feature more and more zippers which are placed in the center back of the dress, and by the 1970s, it seems, almost all zippers were center back ones.

This design from the early '60s would work with either a side or center back zipper, but the pattern calls for a center back one, thus showing the start of the transition.

The dress on this pattern is actually my next project! It is a design by Jacques Heim from the 1970s. I'll be inserting a 22" neckline zipper in the back of this dress.

A casual look at vintage clothes from this time period also seems to support this observation (with the occasional exception to the rule, of course.  I actually saw a side-zippered dress at J.Crew one day this week, but it’s not the same, really, as the dress is sleeveless and the zipper parts at the top, under the arm.)

To try to understand some of the dynamics of this zipper conundrum, I went to my 101 Things I Learned in Fashion School book (by Alfredo Cabrera with Matthew Frederick) to see if I could find any entry on zippers.  Here is what I found on page 64:

“Center back zippers are like fine crystal:  best reserved for special occasions.  When a student designs an interesting garment and is asked how the wearer gets into it, the common answer is, ‘center back zipper.’  This solution is favored by inexperienced designers because it doesn’t require an invasive change to a garment.  But a back closure is rarely a satisfactory solution; it’s a fussy, frustrating concern when one has only fifteen minutes to dress for work.

“Back closures are a remnant from an era when women wore corsets and hoopskirts and had maids to truss them up in back.  Today they are more appropriate in association with major events.  On her wedding day or Oscar night, after a woman has spent a lot of time and money on her hair and makeup, she is more likely to want to step into her dress than pull it over her head.  A center back zipper implies a fitting sense of occasion.” [my emphasis]

Side-placed zippers are different from center-back zippers both in name and detail:  side zippers are called “dress” zippers and have bottom and top “stops”, while zippers for the center back (or skirts, pants, shorts) are called “neckline” or “skirt” zippers and, of course, open at the top with a stop just at the bottom.  (Skirt and neck zippers can easily be made into dress zippers by putting a few tacking stitches to anchor the two sides together right above the pull.)  Back in their hay-day, dress zippers were available in lengths from 10” to 14”. Skirt and neckline zippers are still available in lengths ranging from 6” to 24”, but they are now called “all-purpose” zippers.

So why, since the ‘70s, have most side dress zippers been replaced by neckline zippers placed center back?  I guess there are several potential answers to that question, including:

1) a lot of us would rather step into our dresses than pull them over our heads even if we are not dressing for a special occasion.

2) laziness or ignorance  (both kind of strong words, for which I apologize to anyone offended!) or practicality on the part of designers.

3) it’s just become the accepted way of closing a dress.

4) the invisible zipper made application of the zipper easier and the finished look more streamlined.

5) Huh? What’s a side zipper?

I’m sure there are lots of other explanations but my favorite one is a bit more romantic…   James H. Boren put it succinctly thus:  “A dress that zips up the back will bring a husband and wife together.”   I’d say that is a “fitting sense of occasion”!

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March 8, 2012 · 7:42 pm

Spring-Summer Fashion Show – A Day Remembered from 1976

I was working in center city Philadelphia in 1976.  The venerable John Wanamaker Department Store was just a few blocks away from my place of employment – and often I would grab a quick yogurt and crackers for lunch and then head over to the Fabric Department to spend the remainder of my lunch hour dreaming among the bolts of silks and linens, cottons and wools.  It was about this same time of year – mid-March – when I saw a notice about a fashion show, which was going to be held at the store.  It was to feature Vogue patterns, and the sole fabric of choice was to be American-made silk.  Well, this was quite enough to make a girl’s heart go pitter-patter; this was one show I was not going to miss!

When the appointed day arrived, somehow I carved out the time from work and scurried off to the top floor of the Wanamaker building which housed the “designer fashions” department.  I was feeling a little young and naïve among the well-dressed ladies in attendance, but that did not deter me!  I was in heaven as I saw one gorgeous outfit after another, all in glorious colors of the most beautiful silk fabrics.  I came away with the printed “program” from the show and have kept it all these years.  Here is the front of it:

The symbol for American Silk featured on the cover of the Program is still used today.

I came away with a couple of other things as well – a Vogue pattern which had been featured, and a piece of American silk in which to make my chosen design!  First, however, a few words on the company which sponsored the Show – and a few peeks into the rest of the printed program.

Here is the statement at the bottom of page two of the Program:

“All fabrics in the show are pure silk and made in America by the American Silk Mills Corp. and distributed to the over-the-counter market by Logantex, Inc.  You will find the fabrics in the colors in the show as well as other favorite colors in the fabric department.  Fashion note:  the identical silk fabrics are presently being used by leading American designers in their spring and summer ready-to-wear collections.”

American Silk Mills is still in operation, but it seems they are no longer producing dress goods, just drapery and upholstery fabrics.  Logantex is still a distributor of fabrics.

The Show was conducted by Charles Kleibacker, whom I remember as very charming and very sophisticated on stage.   He was known as “Master of the Bias” and gave some styling and sewing tips that day on using the bias in dressmaking.  He died in 2010 at the age of 88.

The show was divided into five “scenes”:  Day Dressing in Silk, Sporty Silks, Silk Chic – The Layered Look, At Home in Silk, and Evenings in Silk.  Twenty-eight patterns were featured in twenty-four “looks”.  The diagrams of these outfits are in black and white, but the colors and types of silk used for each are designated in the  descriptions.  Here are the four pages of designs (click on the images to see them enlarged):

Not all the Vogue patterns featured were from their Designer Series, but of those that were, they were all American designers - very appropriate for the Bicentennial Year!

The sailor middy and skirt outfit shown at the top of the page was memorable in its Fire Engine Red, Canton Navy Blue and White.

You can read some more about Charles Kleibacker at the top of this page from the Program.

The designs on this page give a good feel for the various weaves of silk which were featured in this show: crepe de chine, "Shan-Twill", broadcloth, and linen. Shantung was also one of the weaves.

Reading the color descriptions and combinations is totally inspiring.  For example, View 6 featured Shocking pink, Pure pink, and Blossom pink.  Olive and Pistachio were paired in view 8, while view 13 brought Mariner blue, Sun gold, Chrysanthemum, and Canton Navy together in one stunning outfit.  View 24 was a fabulous finale piece in Straw, Apricot, Desert Coral and Wheat.

However, the colors which spoke to me the most that day were the Hyacinth silk linen, the Desert coral silk linen and the Melon twill.  I could only afford to buy one length of fabric – I opted for the pattern shown in View 2, an Anne Klein shirtdress –  and I purchased the hyacinth blue silk linen.

I made a wide self belt and wore this dress with the collar up in back as pictured.

Here is all I have left of the fabric, two scraps!

This photo cannot show you the depth of color saturation, nor the perfect weight and weave of this silk linen.

I remember wearing the dress to parties and feeling very happy.  Isn’t that what beautiful clothes are supposed to do?

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Filed under Dressmaker details, sewing in silk, Uncategorized, vintage Vogue patterns from the 1970s, Vogue patterns

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