Some blouses are worn A LOT. Those are everyday blouses, and I have quite a few of those (with more to come, I am sure!) And some blouses are worn infrequently, but equally loved for their unique properties. These would include exceptional fabric, refined or formal appearance, limited wearing opportunity, or their ability to make a statement. The blouse I most recently completed has all those properties.
This deep pink silk charmeuse Jacquard has been in my fabric closet for over ten years, having been purchased at Britex Fabrics when I started sewing for myself again, way back when. Its color, and the polka dot woven motif, both personal favorites, drew me to it. A couple of years ago, after purchasing another piece of silk – a printed silk twill – I paired the two fabrics together and added them both to my sewing queue. The skirt may have to wait until next year, but the blouse earned a spot in 2022’s sewing agenda.
Two fabrics meant for each other!
I used a blouse pattern which I have made once before. From 1957, this pattern is timeless with its elegant collar (which looks good lying flat or propped up around the neck), petite French cuffs and feminine three-quarter length sleeves. I suppose in 1957, this style blouse may have been considered a casual piece, which the illustrations on the pattern envelope suggest. I saw this blouse as dressy, however, and that is how I have interpreted it.
The collar on this blouse is beautifully engineered.
Here is the first blouse, in silk dupioni, I made from this pattern.
One of the details which make this blouse so flattering to wear is the waistline open-ended darts, easily visible above. They minimize the bulk when the blouse is tucked inside its skirt and add a lovely billow effect above the waist. I made these darts a bit shallower than the pattern indicated. When making these darts, I secured their upper edges by pulling the thread tail on one side to the other side so that I had the ability to knot those threads with three tight loops. For those of you who have made a classic French jacket, this is the same method used to secure the quilting stitches at the end of the columns. The photo below helps to show this.
The darts are secured by knots done by hand both top and bottom.
Those open-ended darts are featured on the back of the bodice, too.
Buttons are such fun to select for a blouse like this. I have had these vintage white pearl buttons for some time, and no doubt they were waiting for this project. When the skirt is made at some point, the three-lobed profile will play off the designs in the silk twill. But, more than that, I needed something to act as a foil for the polka-dotted field. More “round” would have been fine, but not exciting. Additionally, these buttons are a bit bigger which helps them hold their own on that deep, rich, pink silk.
The French cuffs are secured by buttons both front and back.
Love those buttons!
Being the ‘statement” blouse that it is, I doubt I will be wearing this blouse casually. But I’m betting/hoping I will find good reason to wear it not infrequently to one or another tony event.
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 addeddetails [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.
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 . . .
Do you love pockets and add them to your sewn creations wherever you can? Would you be happy never to have to sew another pocket? Do you tolerate them in a garment, preferring to do without if possible? Many people have very strong opinions about pockets or the lack thereof. I think those of us who sew are among those with the strong opinions, primarily because we have it in our power to add them or delete them. My personal mantra on pockets is “Let’s see if we can do without them, unless we can’t.”
I generally divide my thoughts about pockets into three categories: those in dress pants (slacks), those in dresses and skirts, and those in dressier coats and jackets. (A little caveat is probably useful here before I get any further. Yes, jeans should have pockets, as should hiking and/or activewear pants and shorts. And absolutely, pockets are part of the functionality of active outdoor coats and jackets and vests. Those categories are not part of this discussion.)
It was over two decades ago when I first started thinking about the dilemma pockets in slacks present. I had just purchased a navy blue wool flannel, dressy pair of slim pants, which fit well and were flattering. There were two welt pockets on either side of the front which were basted closed, as is the custom in better clothes (leaving it up to the purchasing customer to remove the basting.) I left the basting in and preserved the slim silhouette of the slacks. Had I removed the basting, the front, I am sure, would have “pooched” out at those two spots and, well, not done my tummy any favors. Once I started buying vintage patterns a decade ago, I began to notice the slacks in the patterns from the 1950s generally were pocketless. (I have long thought fashion and style in the decade of the 1950s was at its zenith, both in elegance and in silhouette, which is a topic for another discussion.) Here a few examples of patterns from the 1950s:
Note the defining tuck in the front of the pant legs.
These slim pants are enhanced with 4 shaping darts each, front and back, with no waistband.
These slim pants do have a waistband.
In my mind, pockets in dress slacks are superfluous at best, detrimental at worst, and just unnecessary. Although I rarely make pants and slacks, I have yet to put a pocket in any of them.
Dresses and skirts are a bit more complicated. Fuller skirts often provide the perfect camouflage for in-seam pockets. I have sewn at least three such styles, the patterns for which included pockets in the side seams. Interestingly, two of them were vintage Diane von Furstenberg patterns from the 1970s; the other is a more recent Vogue shirt dress.
This DvF dress pattern from the 1970s has pockets in the side seams.
Again, pockets in the side seams in this Vogue pattern. The fuller skirts in all three of these dresses conceal the pockets well, but only if they are empty! If I make any of these patterns again, I will not bother with adding pockets.
There was a charming article appearing this summer in a Weekend Edition of The Wall Street Journal by author Jasmine Guillory and her “perfect dress” which, alas, has pockets. (Check her website here to read the article under “About”.) Here is what she wrote, “The only element that mars this dress’s perfection is its pockets. This might be a controversial statement, but I don’t like dresses with pockets. They pooch at my hips, even when empty, and if you put something in them, it’s worse…. What’s this great need for dresses with pockets?” She goes on to say she regularly takes her dresses with pockets to the dry cleaner to have the pockets removed. (Alas, again! Her dry cleaner closed during the pandemic, meaning that her “perfect dress” still has its pockets, making it “almost perfect.”)
But what about slimmer silhouettes? In-seam pockets could cause the same “gapping” situation, which begs the question “Would you put anything in those pockets which would cause that pocket to gap even more? Probably not. I would place my hankie or my cell phone or lip stick in my handbag, not in my pocket – and that goes for fuller skirts as well. (Besides, like Jasmine Guillory, I am quite smitten with handbags.)
However, what about in-seam pockets which are part of the design? Here is a notable example:
This Vogue Designer pattern has shallow pockets in its side front seams. Somehow, I can’t imagine this dress without them!
And then, of course, applied pockets are often part of the design, but not really intended for practical use. Take a look at this evening gown:
Notice that these pockets open from the side.
You might be able to tell I have decided I am not so keen on pockets in skirts and dresses either – UNLESS they are integral to the design.
Which brings us to coats and jackets. I think one’s first reaction to this category would be “Well, of course, jackets and coats need to have pockets.” And for the most part, I would agree with that. Often pockets in coats and jackets are part of the design and add stylistic interest as well as functionality. Here are a few examples of coats I have made, with such pockets:
The pockets in this coat are inserted into the shortened princess seam.
Here is a jacket pattern which is in my sewing queue for 2022. I absolutely love the pockets.
And where would a Classic French jacket be without its pockets? They are not really functional, but undeniably integral to the design.
One of the Classic French jackets I have made.
Not all coats have pockets, however. Take a look at this Madame Gres design which I made in a lavender linen. It has no pockets, nor would I want them in this Spring coat.
And here is a “summer” coat which I think is just so chic. No pockets.
I have made this coat pattern twice – once with pockets and once without.
The wool version has in-seam pockets which I find useful:
A peek inside one of those in-seam pockets.
But here is the same pattern, made as a “cocktail” coat. I made it pocketless and love it.
No pockets needed when one has a lovely little clutch to carry.
Clearly there is much to consider when it comes to pockets. When we add them to a garment, or delete them, or change their placement, or baste them shut to eliminate that dreadful “pooch” problem, we are admitting that not all pockets are equal. Some are perfect in every way, some not so much, and some – are never missed.
Eyelet is one of those fabrics which can conjure up memories from one’s life. So often associated with pinafores, eyelet is lovely for little girls’ dresses – and petticoats. It is often used for lingerie or sleepwear for all ages, as well as dresses and blouses. It is a summer fabric, with its “built-in” air conditioning – ie. all those little holes surrounded by embroidery. Often eyelet trim – and sometimes eyelet yard goods – have one or two finished borders. Such was the case with the eyelet I found earlier this year for the ruffled collars for sundresses for my granddaughters.
This lace was a 14″ wide double scallop-edged panel, which I cut down the middle to use for the two collars.
It was working on those collars which convinced me I needed to make an eyelet bouse for myself. I went back to Farmhouse Fabrics, from which I had purchased the double-sided eyelet panel for those collars, to find a suitable eyelet for a blouse. Farmhouse Fabrics has quite an inventory of lovely eyelets, so it was difficult to decide. But decide I did, and purchased this all-cotton eyelet made in Spain.
I liked the meandering motif in this design.
For a pattern I used this vintage Vogue pattern from 1957.
I liked the convertible collar of this pattern, as shown in View B. A convertible collar is one which can be worn open or closed. The collar is sewn directly to the neckline. I did, however, shorten the sleeves to below elbow-length. I also chose to make plain, buttoned cuffs without the extra turn-back detail.
Although the blouse is described on the pattern envelope as “tuck-in,” I liked the gently curved and split hem which would also allow me to wear the blouse as an over-blouse. The thumbnail detail from the pattern envelope shows the curved hem.
I lined the main body of the blouse with white cotton batiste, leaving the sleeves unlined. To reduce bulk, I made the undercollar and the cuff facings from the white batiste.
Buttons are always a favorite component of a blouse for me. I had a card of vintage Lady Washington Pearls which seemed a lovely complement to the scale of the fabric embroidery.
One button remaining!
I first wore this blouse on a very warm evening to attend an outdoor concert. I was amazed at how cool the blouse was. The little breeze there was, did indeed feel like air-conditioning as it wafted through all those embroidered holes!
In my case, this collar is not “convertible” as I did not put a button and buttonhole at the neckline!
I made the cuffs with a bit more width than needed so I can push the sleeves up further if I want.
After I finished the blouse I went back and added two narrow fisheye darts to the back to make the fit a bit more streamlined.
I think this blouse might be a good pairing for the Liberty cotton skirt featured in my last post.
Finding beautiful eyelet fabric is now on my sewing radar. I would like to make more with this timeless, feminine and versatile type of lace.
Or is it the first dress of Fall? It depends on your point of view, apparently. The Autumnal Equinox, here in the Northern Hemisphere, is September 22nd, officially the first day of (Astronomical) Fall. Meteorological Fall began on September 1st, marking the point in the year when the temperatures begin to fall (pardon the pun.) Either way one looks at it, I now have a finished dress which is either late for Summer or just under the wire. I’m honestly just delighted to have it finished!
Although linen is traditionally thought to be a summertime fabric, I have long thought it is also the perfect fabric for early Fall. Moygashel linen is especially well suited for this time of year. Its natural fibers keep it cool for those days which continue to warm up, but its sturdy weave and heft give it a substantial enough look for these days of transition.
I purchased this piece of vintage linen from an Etsy shop years ago.
This particular piece of Moygashel, undoubtably a survivor from the mid-1950s, presented me with a couple of challenges. First, it was only 35” wide. And I only had 2½ yards. Laying out pattern pieces on a single layer of fabric always allows me to maximize their placement, improving my ability to do the impossible – get a dress out of too little fabric. (Here is another Moygashel linen dress which I was able to squeak out of 1 5/8 yards of 35” fabric.)
This vintage Vogue pattern gave me two sleeve options. If I had opted for the very short sleeves, I would have had ample yardage. But, for the seasonal reasons mentioned above, I particularly wanted to make this dress with the below-elbow-length sleeves. So, I fiddled and figured and made it work by utilizing both the straight of grain and the cross grain for the bodice/sleeve pieces. I was able to do this because of the allover floral design – ie., no directional limitations.
This pattern is dated 1957.
Interestingly enough, this dress with its cut-on sleeves does not have gussets. Rather, the underarm seams of the dress sections are curved to add moveability.
This shows where the seams join under the arm close to the top of the side zipper.
I underlined this dress with white cotton batiste (from Farmhouse Fabrics) and I finished the seams with Hug Snug Rayon seam binding.
The buttoned upper back bodice is a real focal point of this pattern. Being 1957, the pattern calls for “fabric buttonholes” – or bound buttonholes. So that’s what I did.
When it came to buttons, I wanted to use some sort of faceted black buttons. After searching online and coming up empty-handed for buttons of the correct size and look, I settled on these carved pearl buttons already in my button collection.
I love these buttons, but I still think black ones would be better … so I will keep searching and switch them when I’m successful. That will also allow me to use the “leaf” buttons (I have 6 of them) for something which will show them off to better advantage.
The final construction detail of note is the 10” side zipper. I used a lapped, hand-picked application which lays inconspicuously below the left sleeve.
It is so inconspicuous, you can barely see it here!
I did not leave an opening on either side at the waist for a belt to slip through. In fact, I did not have enough fabric to make a self-belt! However, my intention was always to use a contrasting belt. I think this fabric will lend itself to using belts of varying colors (red or yellow or pink?) as long as I can coordinate with shoes, handbags and/or jewelry. That will have to wait until I am home from our Summer location. Maybe I’ll even find black buttons back home!
I could wear this dress without a belt as well. (But I’m not sure I will…)
One final note about this pattern and dress: it has to go over the head. It was much more common for dresses from the 1950s and ‘60s to have side zippers and “over the head access” only. This can wreak havoc on hair (and make-up)! So a little pre-planning is necessary – I will need to finish my primping after I have put on the dress.
And everytime I put this dress on, I shall see the original Moygashel linen label which came with the fabric.
I suspect this dress will go right into the cedar closet for the months to come, as I switch out the wool skirts and dresses and coats and sweaters. But hopefully, in March, at the Spring Equinox, it will creep out from its dark and quiet spot and maybe even actually be worn!
What? It is almost September and time to assess just exactly what I accomplished the last three months. I have a friend whose late mother always said, “A flurry of activity at the end of the day does not make up for earlier unfocused, unproductive hours.” I guess the same could be said for the waning days of a month or a season. However, despite my nagging feeling that I have not accomplished much this summer, I have actually made some progress on my never-ending list.
For one thing, I tackled the alterations on my silk floral dress about which I wrote earlier in the summer. I took out the hand-picked, lapped zipper to see if resetting it would give me enough ease over the tight bust and uncomfortable back. There was much to take out and then put back in: the lining, part of the neck ruffle, the understitching of the neck facing, and of course the entire zipper, in addition to reattaching the silk organza underlining back to the fashion fabric. Thank goodness for the ample seam allowances which, in true couture fashion, enabled me to add just enough extra across the back. Yes, it worked, and I am so much happier with the fit and the look of the dress. Now I can wear it or hope to wear it! (Someday?) I still think I will tweak the neckline a bit if I make this pattern again, but I do feel I salvaged this dress.
Well, these are not the shoes I intend to wear with this dress. They happen to be the only heels I have with me this summer.
This dress fits so much better… I’m so happy I did not put off “fixing” this dress until … who knows when!
Several weeks of the summer were devoted to home decorative sewing, including pillows, cushions, and a tailored bed skirt. I won’t bore you with that! But it was all very time-consuming, as those things tend to be. More weeks were spent, happily, with welcoming family for visits and extended stays and even some sewing for my granddaughters. I have never known two little girls who enjoy “playing dress-up” more than my two. In a weak moment a couple of years ago I purchased this amazing vintage pattern of the Chiquita Banana Señorita’s dress in girls’ size 6-8.
The Chiquita Banana copyright for this costume is from 1947. The pattern is undated, but it is undoubtably from the 1950s.
I knew this was the summer to make these dresses, so I was off to the races on them. I opted for rick rack rather than bias tape as the decorative trim. I ordered the fabric from Farmhouse Fabrics – a cotton/poly blend which was lovely, and in equally lovely colors. As the dresses got heavier and heavier as I worked on them, I decided to eliminate the third row of ruffles. As it turned out, the dresses were amply sized. My 5-year-old granddaughter reassured me that it was so good to have dresses with room to grow. And so, these fiesta dresses will serve them for at least a couple of years.
I wanted the girls to have different colored dresses, and I got creative with the colors, as I really think of these as “fiesta” dresses rather than Chiquita Banana. Lots of twirling ensued!
And then last week – yes the last full week of the month – I was finally able to focus on what will be my last make of Summer. Here is the pattern:
This pattern is dated 1957.
And here is the fabric:
I was fortunate to find this vintage piece of Moygashel linen several years ago. It is also from the 1950s.
And so my last minute flurry of sewing activity is well underway. Happy September!
Every January when I sit down to do some planning for the new year at hand, I usually start by doing three things:
Looking at what I accomplished on my list from the past year, and moving those unfinished items onto my new list,
Going through my fabrics and deciding what looks inspiring – or in desperate need of action – and
Assessing what my wardrobe needs will be for the year.
This year, I am adding #4 to that list: What patterns do I want to try for the first time, and which ones do I want to make again.
Number 1 looks like this:
This is my list for 2019, perhaps the third iteration of it. Things and priorities change during the year. My list for 2020 is still being planned!
Number 2 is shocking to me. I have so many beautiful fabrics. I could easily just concentrate on what I have stored away and be totally occupied with those for not just this year, but for several years to come. However, I know from experience that I will buy new fabrics (and already have since January 1!), and I will be glad I did. So there. I am admitting I am a hopeless case when it comes to fabric. There are too many dreams tied up in some fabrics for me to resist their purchase. I always just hope that the fabrics used from my existing collection slightly outnumber the new ones I buy. Usually this is the case. Hopefully it will be this year.
Number 3 is not always apparent. I do know I will need some dressier things for Springtime events. I do know my summer will be very casual. And usually Fall and early Winter require some dressier apparel. I have a big birthday (gulp!) coming up this year, and I think it deserves something special, but I’m not sure what that is yet. But I would be willing to bet it will demand a new dress, at the least.
And my new Number 4 – now here is a category that really inspires me. I have so many amazing vintage patterns to try, but I also have so many I have made once (or more) and love so much that I never tire of making them. I believe my patterns will guide my sewing this year to a large degree.
Here are a few I have never used, but have hopes for in 2020:
This pattern is out of print, but I don’t really consider it vintage. However, it looks like a great shirtwaist dress pattern. I especially like Views A and D. My hope/plan is to make at least two, and perhaps three, shirtwaist dresses this year. In fact, View A is my current project.
I love everything about the design of this dress: it has a two-piece look, but the skirt is attached to a camisole under the over-bodice. I love the buttoned back and the front seaming detail. I particularly like the long-sleeved version.
Here are the back views of this dress.
Here is another take on a princess-lined dress, with jacket. It is not suitable for striped, plaid or diagonal fabrics, which eliminates quite a few of my choices, but I would love to try it. Even better would be to make a dress and jacket…
The line drawings on the envelope back show the seaming details and dart placement. It looks really, really lovely.
I came across a piece of deep pink cashmere last year, and if I decide to make a coat I think it will be View B of this classic coat pattern.
And here a few patterns I have used and want to use again. Most have been fitted correctly (although I always seem to tweak one or two little things) – and most are versatile and classic and have simple, but elegant, lines to them.
I will definitely be making this pattern again this year at least once.
I know for certain I will be making the short version of this dress again. I have a dress planned for Spring using it. My first use of this pattern resulted in the dress below, selected for inclusion in the Gallery of A Stylish Guide to Classic Sewing, by Sarah Gunn and Julie Starr.
I would love to make another bow blouse this year. This classic look from 1957 is about as lovely a bow blouse as one can find.
A bow blouse would be the perfect pairing with another Parisian Jacket. A silk blouse with a Parisian Jacket made from vintage Moygashel linen?
Finally, ever since I used this pattern years ago, I have wanted to make it again, in a short-sleeved version. I am hoping this will be the year!
I think I could make either view of this dress over and over and not get tired of it.
Much has been said this year about the start of a new decade. It does seem prescient, doesn’t it? Full of hope and anticipation, the new decade will, nevertheless, do what it will. Dressmaking will be just a part of the new continuum, but my days and months and years will be measured in no small part by what I put on my list, and then the placement of those happy checkmarks when I have accomplished that which I set out to do.
Welcome 2020! No doubt you will be gone in a flash, so may we all make the most of your wondrous days, the dressmaking ones and all the others, too.
Sewing has been, well, challenging this summer. In reality, I think I have been able to accomplish just about all I could have hoped for – so far, at least – but it certainly doesn’t seem like very much.
When I packed fabric to bring along to our new vacation home in Wyoming, I tried to think ahead and determine exactly what I would need. For instance, I brought two decorator fabrics which I had picked out for two of our “new” bedrooms, with plans for making decorative pillows and at least one bed skirt. I also brought two fabrics with which to make dresses for our two little granddaughters who were arriving, along with the rest of our immediate family, in late July. I also brought some vintage Moygashel linen, many pieces of shirting and dress cottons, skirt fabric, and a piece of Viyella cotton/wool blend. What was I thinking?!! Certainly no one could accuse me of being under-ambitious!
I totally misjudged how much of my time would be taken up with organizing and setting up a new household. So – what have I been able to sew? A number of decorative pillows, for one thing. I find them – and all that self-bias tape I had to construct – utterly boring to make, but satisfying once they are completed. The bed skirts have been moved to the “still to do” list.
I was able to make dresses for my granddaughters. My original intent was to make each dress out of a different fabric, but when I stretched out my ladybug embroidered, striped fabric from Emma One Sock, I realized I had more than I needed for one dress. With one minor compromise, I knew I could get two dresses from my existing yardage. So I changed plans and made matching dresses.
I made white piping for the pockets and collars out of kitchen string and white batiste. The ladybug embroidered fabric is really so cute!
The compromise I had to make involved the sashes, as I did not have enough fabric to cut sashes for two dresses. Fortunately I had enough of the coordinating red fabric to make the sashes. Now I’m glad it worked out that way, as I think it makes the dresses cuter.
I had pre-purchased red decorative buttons, thinking I would need them for just one dress. Normally I would put three in a row centered beneath the collar, but with four buttons, and two dresses … Well, you do the math! Two on each dress it is!
Having spent many summer days and nights in Wyoming before this year, I knew from experience how chilly the mornings – and nights – can be throughout the summer. (The days are warm and glorious, however.) Warm cozy slippers and a winter-weight bathrobe are necessities. And that is why I brought along the afore-mentioned Viyella fabric. Although I packed a winter-weight robe which I made a few years ago, I wanted to make a new robe which I can leave here, therefore eliminating one bulky item from future suitcases.
How lovely to have the opportunity to use this vintage Vogue pattern once again.
This robe takes a lot of fabric, and it was a tight squeeze fitting all the pattern pieces on it and matching the plaid as well. I had to make the sash out of two pieces of fabric, seaming it in the back. Additionally, I had enough fabric for only one pocket (I prefer two.) But, I am happy with the outcome, and very pleased to have used one more piece of fabric from my sizeable collection!
Viyella is the perfect fabric for a lightweight, but warm bathrobe. It is machine washable, and gets softer with age.
While the bathrobe, and the little dresses, were enjoyable to make, neither were challenging in the “couture” sense. So I did my “couture” dreaming vicariously through the Susan Khalje Couture Sewing Club, where inspiration abounds in many forms. Earlier in the month, Susan was interviewed for the “Love to Sew” podcast. Treat yourself and spend a lovely hour-plus listening to it, if you haven’t already done so. The interview, Episode 106, dated August 12th, can be found here:
Among Susan’s new pattern offerings is this jacket:
When I arrive back home in Pennsylvania, I will be searching through my fabric closet for the perfect pairing for this pattern. I am just itching to challenge myself with such a project. No more pillows, at least for now!
Who doesn’t love a polka dotted motif? The term “polka dot,” dating from 1880-85, is of American derivation, and of course it immediately conjures up a mental picture of a field of spots forming a pattern on a textile.
Here is what Christian Dior had to say about Dots in his Little Dictionary of Fashion, first published in 1954: “I would say the same about dots as about checks. They are lovely, elegant, easy, and always in fashion. I never get tired of dots… Dots are lovely for holiday clothes … and for accessories. According to their color, so they can be versatile… Black and white for elegance; soft pinks and blues for prettiness; emerald, scarlet, and yellow for gaiety; beige and gray for dignity.” (The Little Dictionary of Fashion, by Christian Dior; Abrams, New York, New York, 2007, page 34.)
“Lovely, elegant, easy and always in fashion.” That is quite an endorsement, and one with which I completely agree. I also have to agree with these quotes, the first one from Marc Jacobs: “There is never a wrong time for a polka dot,” and this one from the American actress, Anna Kendrick, “You can’t have a bad day in polka dots.”
While images of polka-dotted dresses, blouses, ensembles, and sportswear are in abundant supply from many sources, it’s always inspiring to look at a few select examples, many from the 1950s. The following two images were part of a feature in the February/March 1955 Vogue Pattern Book Magazine. Although pictured in black and white the first example is described as “Tiny white polka dots on red crepe. A soft day-long dress.”
The next image is titled Gigantic Dots: “Bold black dots on hot pink surah. A dramatic sheathed bodice dress.”
Can you imagine how beautiful this dress was in hot pink with black dots?
The June/July 1957 VPB Magazine featured “the most romantic dress of the season – a pouf of black-and-white silk polka dots.”
Less than a year later, in the April/May 1958 VPB Magazine, an entire feature was on Polka Dots and Patent Leather: “Exciting goings-on in polka dots: fresh new arrangements – at their most polished in black and white silk surah, spruced with gleaming black patent leather.”
Below is the dress of this description: “Dots blown up to impressive sizes – a look for relaxed but festive evenings.”
This two-piece dress could easily be worn today and look very current.
And here is the image for “Classic polka dots – square cut blouse [with] reverse-dot cummerbund:”
One of my favorite outfits from the show Mad Men was this white linen dress with a built-in silk polka dot sash. The two-color sash makes this dress a standout:
Image from The Fashion File; Advice, Tips, and Inspiration from the Costume Designer of MAD MEN, by Janie Bryant with Monica Corcoran Harel; Grand Central Life & Style, New York, New York, 2010, page 8.
This famous – and stunning – 1958 dress and coat ensemble by Arnold Scaasi, an American couturier, was featured prominently in the retrospective of his work at the Museum of Fine Arts in Boston, September 25, 2010 – June 19, 2011:
Now this is an exhibit I wish I had seen.
And finally, this is a Carolina Herrera ad which I plucked out of some magazine a while ago. The ad is for the handbag, but the polka-dotted dress, with its bright red sash steals the show:
So why all my focus on polka dots? They have been much on my mind lately, as I have finally begun the many-step process of making a couture dress, using this vibrant silk, purchased seven or eight years ago:
This is a crepe de chine which I purchased from Britex Fabrics in San Francisco. Smaller irregular dots are woven into the design.
The background color is navy blue.
Now my hope is that one cannot have a bad sewing day when working with polka dots.
fiftydresses 
A Very Pink Coat, Part 1
Some projects deserve more than one blog post and this pattern and coat fall into that category.
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:
This pattern is featured twice in the Vogue Pattern Book Magazine from August-September 1957.
Here is the longer version shown on page 22:
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 . . .
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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