Like so many children who grew up in the 1950s, I wore, for the most part, clothes made by my mother. For the first ten years of my life, my family lived in Asheville, North Carolina. Although decades have passed since last I lived there, it is those early homemade clothes that infuse my memory of those years and that place. I had an early interest in fabric and sewing and loved to help pick out selections from which my mother would make dresses and play clothes for my older sister and me.
We lived on a very steep road, dotted with houses on either side of it. Two houses away from ours lived an older couple, whose names I cannot remember. The wife worked in the fabric department at Ivey’s, a large store in the city of Asheville. She knew that my mother sewed, and one day she told my mother that the sewing department was getting ready to dispose of some of its older fabrics, which would be free for the taking by employees. She wanted my mother to have a couple of these pieces, completely free of cost. My mother was quite excited, and she told my sister and me that perhaps it would be something she could use to make us new dresses.
The December/January 1953-54 Vogue Pattern Book Magazine had this clever feature, Resort Fabric Story (“taste the pleasures”), showing some of the fabric choices for the upcoming Spring and Summer. Perhaps my mother was hoping for something similar to a few of these prints.
We anxiously waited for the day when we could go to our neighbor’s house and pick up our promising parcel. Then – finally – Mrs. Neighbor-two-doors-away called to say she had the fabric for us. I remember well my feelings of anticipation and excitement as the three of us practically skipped down our road to her house.
Her living room was dark, despite the large picture window framing one side of it. None of the furniture looked like it would be comfortable to sit on. I was struck by the appearance of one rocking chair, the wooden arms of which were in the shape of swans’ heads. Everywhere were china figurines and plastic flowers in vases. The room smelled like last night’s supper. On the sofa, which she called a davenport, was a package, wrapped in brown paper and tied with string.
Our neighbor ceremoniously announced that this was the fabric, and she motioned to my mother to open the package. It contained two pieces of cloth. One was a non-descript dark tan, heavy and dull, certainly nothing that could be used for dresses. The other piece was a very large floral print in pink, drab olive green, and smudgy brown – yards and yards of it. It was hideous. My mother very graciously thanked her and told her what lovely pieces they were, and off we went with our weighty cargo.
This ad in the February/March 1955 Vogue Pattern Book Magazine features Bates “disciplined” fabric. “It’s like magic how beautifully your sewing dreams materialize with Bates Disciplined fabric,” proclaims the caption. Obviously, what we received from our neighbor was more nightmare than magical dreams!
When, on our trudge back home up our mountain road, I asked my mother if she liked the fabric, she only said that it was very kind of Mrs. Neighbor-two-doors-away to give us these pieces. I wanted to say that I really didn’t like either piece very much, but I kept quiet. I could see my mother was disappointed, and it made me feel so badly. What good was something that was free, if you did not like it, I wondered? I also wondered what my mother would do with it.
It did not take long to get the answer to that question. My mother had grown up during the Great Depression, when no one wasted anything, ever. Nor would this dubious gift go to waste. Out of the heavy tan fabric, she made shorts for us. I so disliked wearing them as they were scratchy and stiff. I must have thankfully grown out of them quickly, as I don’t recall wearing them very often.
I was more worried about my mother’s plans for the pink floral fabric. Looking back now, I think it must have been very poor quality cotton or heavy rayon. My mother made a play dress out of it for me, with matching bloomers. It, too, was scratchy, and although I would not have known the concept of drape at my young age, I noticed that it did not move with me, but rather hung as a tent from my shoulders. I remember unhappily wearing this outfit, but at age four or five, I did not have much say in the matter. It was so unlike the other cute play clothes and pretty dresses made by my mother; I suspect she thought so, too.
Occasionally I think back on those days so long ago, and I recognize how much they shaped me as a dressmaker. My love for, and my insistence upon using beautiful, fine quality fabrics – once I began sewing for myself – certainly were born during those years. I learned the value in seeking out fabrics worthy of my time and effort, those which would give me enjoyment in their wearing, and which would impart a sense of refinement and style in their tactile and visual qualities.
I love this ad on the inside back cover of the October/November 1953 Vogue Pattern Book Magazine, with its declaration that “fine fabrics are the foundation of fashion.”
Sometimes the best lessons, and the ones remembered so well, are those illustrating the worst example of something. I did not know it at the time, but that brown paper package, with its ugly fabric inside, gave me an unexpected and invaluable life-long lesson in the connoisseurship of beautiful fabric.
A White Blouse
White blouses (or shirts, if you prefer) seem to occupy a niche all to themselves in the annals of fashion. There is something both unpretentious and elegant about a white blouse. A white blouse is almost always noticed and admired, and even the most tailored white blouse has an air of femininity to it.
Here is what Christian Dior had to say about the color white when he wrote The Dictionary of Fashion in 1954: “White is pure and simple and matches with everything. For daytime it has to be used with great care because it must always be really white and immaculate… But nothing gives the impression of good grooming and being well dressed more quickly than spotless white…” (Published again in 2007 by Abrams, New York, New York; page 120).
What could be a better example of being well dressed than this white blouse featured in the February/March 1955 Vogue Pattern Book Magazine (page 28)? With its tucks and French cuffs, it is both demure and sophisticated.
Now this is an elegant blouse!
Timeless is another description that could be given to the classic white blouse. Here is one featured in the August/September 1962 Vogue Pattern Book Magazine, page 49. “In suburbia, nothing has as much unstudied elegance as a classic neat, white shirt…”
By the 1970s, collars look like they had overtaken the world, but even with its outsized points, the white blouse gives this velvet suit its focal point:
This is an advertisement for Crompton velvet, featuring a Vogue pattern (Yves St. Laurent evening suit), page XVI of the October/November 1971 Vogue Pattern Book Magazine.
The Wall Street Journal had a full-page feature on The White Shirt in the Weekend Section of March 26-27, 2016. “Always timely and the quickest shortcut to chic,” says the caption. Part of the feature is shown here:
Although the article fixated on RTW white shirts, a small section was absolutely apropos for those of us who make our white shirts. Finding your Match maintains that there is a certain chemistry involved in finding the perfect shirt for oneself, and it emphasized the importance of choosing the right fabric. While cotton is usually the preferred fabric, even it is subject to an appropriate quality and weave. Choosing a pure cotton fabric will necessitate a commitment to laundering and ironing. Quoted from the article, “You can throw it in the machine, but for a finished look, Ms [Carolina] Herrera (who has made the white shirt her style signature) recommends hand-washing with a splash of starch for a crisp finish. The white shirt, remember, is about contradictions – it may be easy, but it has good manners.” (Oh, yes!)
Well, I can’t say I was thinking about chemistry and laundering and manners when I purchased this white cotton shirting fabric from Britex a few years ago.
I just thought it was so lovely with its woven stripe and scalloped detail. I am happy to say it has been brought to fruition as a classic white blouse.
While the woven stripe IS lovely, it presented some definite considerations when I was laying out my pattern. For example, what reveal of the stripe did I want to show on the collar and cuffs. What about the back yoke? How should the buttons line up on the design on the center front? The following pictures detail my decisions as I worked through each component.
I chose to use the plain white band as the center portion of the cuffs.
I chose to position the stripe on the collar in the middle.
I decided to interface the yoke, as the cotton is lightweight, and the facing of the yoke would have shown through without it. I always use a woven, sew-in interfacing when I am making blouses. It works beautifully. I evenly balanced the placement of the stripe on the yoke, with just a slight plain reveal noticeable at the lower edge.
And then, what buttons should I use? It is so easy – and often appropriate – to choose a simple white pearl, two-hole button to accompany this style of shirt. I was prepared to do that until I came across this card of vintage buttons in my collection:
My first thought was, “How perfect! The incised stripes on the buttons mirror the stripe in the cotton. And, to seal the deal, they were also the perfect size, at 3/8”.
I used the same 1970s’ Simplicity pattern (with my many alterations to it) that I used for the two gingham blouses I made over the summer.
It is always satisfying to use a fabric which had been purchased – in the past, shall we say? It reinforces my thought that there is a time for all those lovely pieces of silk, wool, cotton and linen still waiting for their destination. Perhaps it really is about chemistry, after all.
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Filed under Blouses, Buttons - choosing the right ones, Fashion commentary, Fashion history, Uncategorized, underlinings, vintage buttons
Tagged as Britex Fabrics, Choosing buttons, fashion sewing, quotes about fashion, sewing, vintage ads for fabrics, Wall Street Journal Fashion coverage, white shirt