Tag Archives: sewing

Super Productivity! Kinda.

So first off, an apology. I’ve been searching WordPress and my own brain for ways to do this, but I can’t figure out how to put a .pdf on a blog post. You know, for patterns. I’m stuck. So for now, I must apologize. I want to share some of the patterns I’ve taken but until I can figure out a way to get them here, un-warped and un-wonky, I can’t. ūüė¶

Other than that disappointment, I’ve been sewing like mad. Mad, I tell you! I just haven’t had the time to blog about it. Or take any nice photos.

Since early January, I’ve made:

1 1910s-1920s velvet hat (HSF Challenge #2: Blue)

1 1918 wool skirt

1 1900s cotton & lace corset cover (HSF Challenge #1: Foundations)

1 1910s linen blouse

1 1910s cotton & lace slip

1 1915-1918 wool jacket

1 silk and (oops) polyester ‚ÄúVotes for Women‚ÄĚ yellow rose brooch

1 early/mid 1920s velvet evening gown (HSF Challenge #3: Stashbusting)

1 pair 1930s wool & leather spats

1 late 1920s tennis (style) dress

… and I’ve begun an 1880s-ish corset.

And as always:

1 huge mess

3 small trash bags of scraps

1 medium sized dent in my vintage button & cloth hoard

1 $15 dent in my wallet (you read that right, BOOYAH)

All the 1917-1920 clothes I meant to make for the April HSF challenge, War & Peace, but I was so excited about them I started and finished them way too early. That¬†worked out all right in the end, though, because I wore them for a women’s suffrage play I was in, with the last-minute addition of the Votes for Women brooch.

I made all these with my 1902 Singer, which felt nice, because I was using antique/accurate tools. Yep, I know, nerdy.

And because I’ve been awful at taking photos of my work, here are just the ones I’ve photographed.¬†I’ll get pictures of everything later.


I am in LOVE with this hat. I usually can’t find something big enough to fit my hair under, so I made it extra big. It’s got that big/loose hat thing that was going on in the teens and twenties, and I can actually put my hair up under it! Yay!

I made the blouse in the photo above from one of my dad’s worn-out 18th century shirts. It was old and threadbare, so I don’t expect the¬†blouse to hold up well. I’ve already popped a few seams¬†– the fibers just fell apart. That being said, I’m surprised at how nicely the shape came out – the pattern was roughly based on one of my modern Gap button shirts. I’m excited to make another, hopefully in a nice batiste, or something that holds up better to drawn-thread work.


The corset cover (left) was taken right from my original (right), which is just a tad too small for me – not that I’d wear it. I made it from a thrifted tablecloth, mimicking¬†the design of triangular lace¬†appliqu√©s at the neckline. I love it – it’s comfy and even though the materials and my workmanship are awfully crude compared to the original, it’s the best I’ve ever done with a sewing machine, and I’m happy.

1920s evening gown 3

This is my ’20s evening gown. I wanted it to be kind of generic so I could wear it to events. The idea was to make a semi-fitted slip and to drape the velvet on that, but halfway through planning I realized I didn’t have any cloth for the slip. Being on a frenetic sewing high I made it anyway, substituting ribbon for lining. Now it looks like the dress has interior suspenders. It works nicely considering the velvet’s heavy and hot (it was a curtain! Thanks, Laura Ashley), and a lining would just make it more uncomfortable to wear. It drapes fairly well, too, so I don’t consider it a failure. And it’s super comfy!


The beading came out okay; it looks better hanging than flat, as above. I made the mistake of putting the beads on too tightly, which messed with the straight Deco lines of the pattern I chose. Live and learn.

amandatulip 006

This is my late twenties tennis dress. I made it, again, from a thrifted curtain and a few pieces of red bias tape. I like it; it’s very comfy. When I wore it to work with my re-worked¬†cloche and a blazer it became very early-1930s-sportswear-ish. The dress itself is very basic; sleeveless with a V-neck and the skirt has two huge box pleats at the sides.

Now I’m working on a new era: the mid-late Victorian. I’m starting with a basic corset based on an 1880s example, and I’m hoping that, for now, I can get away with the 1860s with it, too. After that comes all the rest of the underpinnings and gowns and hats and shoes and stuff, which will be … challenging. I have one long-term project, a 1900-1920s beaded purse which will take me a year, conservatively, to bead fully. It’s about 40% done right now, and I’m slowly working away at it. Good stuff!


Plus Feathers!

I wanted my next post to be patterns, but I’m so excited about my new 1910s – early 20s hat, I had to share it. I added feathers, because frufru is awesome. I found the feathers already attached together in some sort of flower arrangement feather-duster-like pouf at a craft store – the closest I’m going to come to one of those awful Victorian let’s-just-stick-half-a-dead-bird-here decorations.


The feathers are brown, dark with peacock iridescence, and there are a few very skinny tan ones at the back. I love how they look against the navy velvet.


This hat is my entry for the Historic Sew Fortnightly’s Challenge #2, Blue.

The original I based mine on, from LACMA.

The original I based mine on, from LACMA.

See my original blog post about sewing this hat here.

A new hat

I’ve been holding back my sewing appetite because I’ve had other things to do, but yesterday, I lost the fight and it resulted in a 1910s hat.

Photo on 1-12-15 at 5.18 PM #3

Me doing my not-smiling thing, and my brand-new super suffragette velvet hat. I made it from a few bits of used cotton velvet, a couple pieces of canvas for stiffening/lining, and a length of narrow metal boning for the brims’ shape. I winged it; I didn’t have a pattern, and I had super luck making it, so I probably won’t be able to pull it off again. You know how those things work.


The brim: just a loop of boning with a loop of velvet folded over.




The sides; a wide strip of canvas folded in half lengthwise, and a somewhat wider strip of velvet pleated and sewn down to the canvas.



Sides and brim, ready to be sewn together



Pinning/sewing the sides to the brim.


Inside out, sewing the top to the sides. This was later covered with a bit of that stripy material. I did completely hand-sew it, I could have used the machine on about half of it, but the rest was really better finished by hand. The visible basting stitches were an oversight that I might re-do later.

Photo on 1-12-15 at 5.18 PM #2

And hat! Needs some feathers/flowers/stuff. It’s very comfy.


It’s kind of like this purple number from The Los Angeles County Museum of Art. Click here for the item description.

And finally, yeah, I made it on a whim and I have nowhere to wear it. I’d love to make a whole suit/outfit to go with it. I have some more velvet and a lot more of the cool stripy lining material. Maybe.





For Continued Awesome …


Front view, with the fronts crossed more than they would be if it was worn.


This is my gorgeous silk coat, ca. 1905-1910 (edit: actually 1914-17, after a little more research!). It’s 30% air, 70% held together by luck, and 100% Art Nouveau awesome. So, to keep the awesome going, I’m taking as good care of it as I can, and finishing up a pattern to it.

A pattern! The next generation! Because it’s far too delicate to be displayed, and far too awesome to sit in a acid-free box forever. It has to live on!



With the fronts folded back. The front buttons are backed with three small 4-hole shirt buttons, to keep the main buttons attachments from pulling the cloth.



Cuff detail – There are three of these silk macrame buttons down the front, with silk loops instead of button holes.



The back of the collar and upper back detail



Front and shoulder detail, with a silk cord appliqué at each shoulder. The appliqués have three silk tassels with silk-covered wooden beads at the ends. And, by the way, the true color. Damn digital photography in low light.

The coolest thing about this coat is that the person I bought it from said it came from a trunk with a tea gown and a bonnet (both of which I have as well, and both of which are fantastic). The bonnet is decidedly older, ca. 1875-1885, but the tea gown is the same date range as this jacket. I would love to assume they were worn together, and since the jacket is so light (it’s unlined) perhaps they were. They look great together (I put them on my mannequin for a moment last week, before I began to clean and pack them).

So here’s the gown, kind of. Beware, these are very poor photos; I took them with my phone. They’re from while the tea gown was drying after I washed it. I’ll get the gown on my mannequin for some real photos later.

The gown’s completely made of cotton netting and lace. It’s got a net under-bodice and a net under-skirt, but it’s still super transparent. It would have looked so frothy and lacy on somebody, with all the proper under-clothes. The gown itself is in super condition, just a little yellowy. It was musty and yellow-er before I washed it. These photos don’t do it justice.


The bodice of the gown, all net and three different types of lace. It has a bloused, wrap front.


The two-tiered skirt, all net and lace.

So I’ll get a few pictures of the stuff later, and I’ll work on the pattern. It’ll be “a la Patterns of Fashion”, just a measured drawing on graph paper, but I’ll post it for anybody who wants to spread the awesome ūüėÄ


My Late Reticule

I’ve recently joined The Historic Sew Fortnightly, which means I not only have deadlines for school and work, but also my hobby.

And I missed one!

I meant to submit this piece for the challenge that ended last night, but I missed it by half an hour. I would have been really lucky to get it done by then, considering that I hadn’t been a member of the group for long. Like, five days or something.

This project began when I decided to remake my little white reticule because it was a little too little. So I tried the big, pocket-shaped embroidered style popular in the late 1790s and early 1800s.

So here’s my adaptation; 100% hand sewn with linen thread and made with linen and cotton fabric, and a cotton cord for the drawstring. And probably about 2 cups of starch. Again, I used my huge embroidery vocabulary of two different stitches here. Completed, it’s about¬†14″ deep by 10″ wide, certainly big enough to hide¬†an iProduct in.

For reference, here are some originals from Two Nerdy History Girls here. And some variations on the theme, from the Met, here and here.

I rushed through mine and finished it to the point of being juuust useable … but now, hey, since I missed the¬†deadline, why not¬†keep working on it? I’m thinking I’ll embroider the front pieces¬†more. It could use more fancy.


I cut two U-shaped pieces of linen, and two of cotton for the lining, and starched the bejeezus out of them because I didn’t have an embroidery hoop. I also tacked the edges together. The embroidery designs are adapted¬†from the originals linked to above.


I gathered a strip of linen to the edges to make the sides, and used a scrap of cotton for the drawstring casing and ruffle at the top.



Close-up of the embroidery, which I like, but is super basic. And that weird circle thing in the middle of the design could have been executed wayyy better. And what the heck am I going to put inside the circle? A peacock? Maybe a basket of flowers or a cornucopia? Phhh. 


All gathered up.




Springy Underthingies

I have been sewing a lot, which means I have other things that I’m procrastinating on.

Like midterms. The surprise one that’s due in four days. And the two papers due five days after that. And registering for Spring classes in five days.



From my limited research, it appears that steel springs were used in clothing beginning sometime around 1760-1780. They don’t seem to have caught on for much other than garters, which they were used for through the 19th century. The Kyoto Costume Institute has a pair of 1790s transitional stays with springs in them, but they’re the only pair I’ve ever seen.

So late 18th century springy garters are cool. I’ve wanted to make a pair for a long time, and just last weekend was given two lengths of spring suitable for them. Of course they had to happen.

IMG_2136With wire cutters, I cut 6 pieces of 3″ long springs, and made little loops on the ends with pliers.


I sewed two pieces of cream silk taffeta in little channels, leaving about 1/4″ edges for ruffles.


I sewed the springs to pieces of cotton tape.


Put the silk over them,

IMG_2144and sewed smaller pieces of tape to the other ends of the springs.


Then I cut larger pieces of the same silk and pinned them to the tape at one end, sewing the other end together.


I flipped these over and embroidered the silk in place on the tape. I used my extensive embroidery repertoire of a backstitch and a satin stitch.


And here’s where I left them last night: Mostly embroidered up, except for whatever I want to put in the cartouches. Maybe my initials, I don’t know. I’m pretty proud of how the embroidery came out. It’s the best I’ve ever been able to do! I’m excited to get these finished, but¬†midterms are calling.



An 18th Century Workman’s Apron

Last night my order from Burnley & Trowbridge came in (yayyy!!) so I was able to finish my dad’s new work apron.

My dad and I often wear aprons when we do shows. We sell metalware, which is oiled before it’s packed for a show – and then needs to be wiped down when we set up.¬†So we don’t need heavy work aprons, really, just something to protect our clothes as we’re setting up the table.

Dad had an apron made from heavy canvas in an eye-poppingly wide navy and white stripe. It didn’t fit very well and was so heavy it pulled his waistcoat down. It was also old and pretty dirty – oil doesn’t wash off so well.

His new apron is made from a lighter cotton-linen blend in a white and coffee-brown woven stripe, with thin cotton ties. I hand sewed it with linen thread. It’s a simple design; the top is a triangle and the bottom just extends into a square (but it’s cut in one piece). I hemmed the edges, added a buttonhole and a loop at the top corner, and two ties¬†at the hips.


There’s no way to make this thing look decent if it’s not on a person.


A buttonhole that behaved and went together well! I’m always thankful for that. I added a waxed linen loop at the top, for hanging and just in case the buttonhole didn’t let the apron fall correctly. It’s probably superfluous but whatever.¬†