Out of Africa 1917 Coat Dress

A while back I mentioned that I was kind of obsessed with a dress that Meryl Streep wears in one or two scenes of Out of Africa.  (A small aside: this dress was the beginning of a long leap down into the rabbit hole of historical costuming--I watch period shows/movies completely differently now)  I immediately began scheming ways to recreate it, and I found a dressmaker's pattern sketch for almost the precise dress online, with the shape of the pattern pieces included.  I thought the lines looked pretty similar to the McCall's 8347 that I already had, except for the collar section and sleeves, and decided to try and modify it since I already owned it, and I didn't relish the idea of trying to scale up a pattern from a 3x5 card size drawing.  

I did some additional research on dresses of the period, and found this image from the Delineator which I thought was a nice drawing of what I was aiming for.  I didn't want the overskirt part, and I didn't want the big cuffs, but the general lines and vibe of the dress were there.

Image via

The McCalls 8347 had the princess seams, the full long skirt, and the button down opening.  It had flapped pockets.  It did not have a v-neckline, sailor collar, belt, or sleeves.  I knew I had any number of patterns that I could borrow a sleeve from, and drafting a wide belt is easy, but the collar stymied me. 

 I tried using the collar from the Armistice Blouse pattern from Folkwear but it just looked weird.  I had cut the neckline round in order to work with the Folkwear collar and I had no useable fabric left, so I just decided to leave well enough alone and scrap the collar.  I bound the edge with rayon bias and called it good.

I should add that this dress took a full 6 yards of fabric!  I used quilter's flannel from fabric.com instead of a better flannel because it was the difference between an expensive project and a mid-range project and I wasn't sure if I was going to like the finished product.  (As an aside, a friend and I were discussing the clothing industry recently, and she said that it must make me feel good to make so much of my own stuff, but honestly, sewing is such a shot in the dark--sometimes you get something great, sometimes not so much.  And sometimes you don't know until you've finished.  But that is a whole other post).

I started out intending to hand sew the whole dress, but once I finished the bodice and flat felled all the seams by hand, I got antsy and decided to machine stitch the skirt panels since there were so many and they were quite long.  I did hand stitch bias to the inside seams of the skirt because my invisible hand-stitched flat-felling technique didn't work well on the machine seams for some reason and I wanted clean insides to the dress.  

I also attached bias to the inside of the sleeves and the waist band, so the guts of this dress are very clean.  The only edge I didn't neaten beyond pinking was the central sleeve seam, although I could go back and do it at some point.  

I also hand stitched the pocket flaps and attached them by hand and I'm pretty pleased with how they came out.  The instructions in the pattern weren't at all clear, but thanks to the wisdom of the interwebs, I found a better tutorial to explain what to do.  I will say, I was thoroughly sick of green thread by the time I finished sewing this dress!

I used 6 jumbo coat-style snaps to close the dress (snaps are period appropriate, but jumbo snaps are not) and then hand stitched the rest of the center seam down.  I put the buttons over top for decoration.  I put hooks and eyes on the belt and attached it to the dress in the back with a snap.  I did use contrast fabric for the cuffs because after taking apart that green blouse, I wanted to use them on something, and this was a nice little detail on an otherwise plain dress.  It isn't particularly period appropriate, but that's okay.  The dress is for me after all.

It is a supremely comfortable and warm dress, which is great for a day like today.  

Out of Africa Coat Dress: Me Made from McCall's 8347, self-drafted belt, and an Anne Adams mail order vintage sleeve pattern from the 1960s, quilter's flannel from fabric.com, buttons from an etsy seller

Knit cowl: Andes Gifts at Whole Foods

Boots: Modcloth (resoled last winter)

Talking Tuesday: Solitude and Social Media

I'm going to post this one without a lot of commentary, in part because I think the original article covers it well, and in part because I'm so depleted these days that I have little of substance to offer anyone.  As an introvert who craves a lot of solitude but lives with a lot of noise and chaos all the time, the article resonated with me on many different levels.  It is a good thing to think about as we head into the Nativity Fast.

"We are in danger of losing these replenishing, corrective moments of solitary faith. Silence and seclusion are harder to find, and fewer people seek them out. You find a lone bench in the park on a fall afternoon, gaze up at the sky through the branches, and begin the Rosary only to have a power walker march by barking into an invisible mic. It’s not just the noise, it’s his connection to absent persons, as if to say that being in one place alone with the Lord is insufficient."

~Mark Bauerlein, Prayer in the Facebook Age, First Things Online, December 2014

Onions have layers

I've never been good at layering clothing.  I usually end up looking like a complete hobo or just plain frumpy.  I'm kind of loving this outfit though, and I have several other dresses like this, so I think you may expect to find me in some iteration of this for a while.  I'm having serious 18th century dress envy lately and while this outfit is definitely modern, some of the elements are there.

Image via The Dreamstress

One thing that appeals to me about vintage styles, or sewing historical clothing, or basic textile history, is the detailing that was a part of almost any garment sewn prior to the mid-1960s.  The fashion revolution of the late 1960s, for all its funky fabric patterns and daring skirt lengths, tended to be a bit short on detailing and relied on the fabric itself for visual interest and appeal.  

Earlier eras had incredible hand embroidery on garments that were never seen in public, such as shifts and stays, to say nothing of the fine work that went into the outer garments.

Hand-embroidered 18th century pocket, worn under the outer skirt but over the petticoat/corset layers.  Image via.

When you compare, say, a basic 1930s day dress pattern to that of your basic 1960s shift, the contrast is pretty stark.  As clothing manufacturers have increasingly turned to fast fashion this last decade, and cutting costs across the board, detailing, fabric, and construction have largely gone by the wayside (except in the extreme high end of the market, which, frankly, is not where most of us live or shop).  

Via 

It is true that the flow of our modern lives is very different, not lending itself easily to quiet small work in the daily rhythm of things, and our ideas about the clothing needs of the human form have changed substantially.  I'm not suggesting that we should all run out and lace up our stays and garter our stockings.  Elastic and Lycra are a beautiful thing, in my opinion!

Image Via

Lately, I find myself interested in the details of garment construction, embroidery, the whole lot.  I'm fascinated by clothing from the medieval period on down.  I think the intersection between clothing and technology such as central heating and plumbing is very interesting.  I don't think it is a coincidence that fur fell out of favor about the time that indoor climate control became wide-spread.  Or that women began to wear trousers just as indoor plumbing became common.  Even the basic rhythms of a woman's life, so easily reflected in the garments of an earlier age, are mostly absent in the clothing of our modern era. I'm also fascinated by how the wide-spread dissemination of home sewing machines changed some of the basic priorities of garment construction, such as hidden darts, invisible seam finishes and the like. 

Image via

 Until fairly recently, clothing was a major commodity, not only something with which to cover your body, but a subtle way of announcing your place and position to the casual observer.  Historically, sumptuary laws dictated fabrics and colors and finishes reserved for the upper classes, which in turn reinforced the societal structure and common morality.  With the breakdown of hierarchical society, the rise of consumer and discount culture, and the (entirely predictable) transition to more or less disposable clothing, much of this knowledge is greatly diminished.  I'm not entirely certain that it is to our benefit. 

Having said that, I know this whole outfit is short on that kind of detailing.  It is a basic knit dress (albeit with some interesting waist features), a basic knit shirt, a scarf with some subtle embroidery on each end, knit mitts with modest detailing, and minimal jewelry.  But the lines are good, the fit flattering, and the care easy.

I've been wearing something like this for several days now, as I'm down for the count with another major chest infection plus the added bonus of an ear infection, and the various layers have been good for keeping my body temperate, as my internal temperature has swung around a lot.  

The only thing that would make it perfect would be a knitted cowl instead of the scarf, but as I just cast one on yesterday, it wasn't to hand for today.  Soon enough.  Knitting is about all I have energy and focus for anyway.  

soon-to-be cowl.

That's all for me for today.  I'm going to find a warm blanket to curl up under as soon as Ponchik goes down for her nap.

Details:
Eshatki navy blue knit dress
Green Old Navy knit shirt via thredup
knit mitts: Biggo in golden heather from Knit Picks
Scarf: had for donkey's ages
Earrings and Necklace: etsy
Boots: LLBean
Dried snot on the front my dress: courtesy of Ponchik

Gray Flannels

Are you sick of my sewing projects yet?  sorrynotsorry.  Keeping my fingers busy keeps the darkness at bay, and I've been trying to stay busy lately.  'Nuff said.

Among other things, pregnancy is hard on the wardrobe.  I lose a few pairs of shoes and several items of clothing to every baby because my body never quite goes back to the way it was before that baby. 

 It is aggravating to lose really great items of clothing.  With Ponchik, it was two very nice vintage wool straight skirts (a close cousin to the pencil, but less fitted around the knees).  I wore them constantly the winter before I was pregnant with her, and even wore them until about 20 weeks with her when they stopped fitting and the lining on the vintage one started to give way with the strain.  Unfortunately, they've not fit again since she was born, and I spent all last winter anxiously waiting for my hips to go back together and my waist to get back to normal so I could wear them and be nice and toasty.

It was not to be.  My measurements have been pretty stable for about a year now, and I think I just need to accept that this is the way it is going to be for now.  I donated those lovely wool skirts earlier this fall and have been scheming ways to make a replacement for some time.  I stumbled across Robert Kaufman's Shetland flannel last spring and knew it would make a perfect replacement.  The flannel has a nice herringbone pattern to it (very subtle), a good weight and nice nap, but seems like wool.  I bought gray and cinnamon, but have only made up the gray so far.

I lined it in raspberry rayon bemberg (although, buyer beware, the bemberg that Fashion Fabrics Club is selling right now is different in weight and quality from the stuff I bought in the spring--it is heavier and doesn't press very well)

I used two patterns to make this--a 1960s Anne Adams mail order pattern for the back and a Butterick retro 1952 reissue for the front as I wanted slash pockets and didn't want to draft them myself.  The back of the Butterick skirt had two kick pleats in the back, and I thought that the flannel wouldn't lend itself to that sort of pressing.  Everything came together well, the zipper insertion went smoothly (I did it by hand), and I did a lot of hand sewing on this one to make sure that the lining behaved itself.  

I tried it on only to discover that the waist band was far too big.  It gaped badly, and there was no fixing it without some serious intervention.  I threw the skirt in the corner and pouted for a while, and then got out my seam ripper.  I ended up reopening the waist band casing and adding an extra dart at the back waist.  A small dart in the front would also have been helpful, but the pocket placement made that impossible.

It was less pesky than I thought it would be, and took about two episodes of the Miss Fisher Mysteries to fix.  I took the photos after school drop off this morning, so I'm a bit rumpled from baby wearing and getting in and out of the car multiple times, but the skirt is cozy and lovely.  I'm on the fence about the cinnamon flannel--I think another skirt like this would be lovely, but as much as I love pockets on my clothing, I'm of a mind to skip the pockets on the next one and just fit it really well to my waist instead.

In the end, I'm glad I persevered and fixed the skirt; it turned out well enough.

Details: Gray flannel skirt using Butterick Retro reissue 6308 + Anne Adams 9481

Knit shirt: Gap via ThredUp

Scarf: Claire's (I think--it is old)

Tights: Foot Traffic via Sock Dreams

Celtic Knot necklace and earrings: Southern Belle OOAK etsy

Danskos: ebay

We don't need no stinking closet orphans

I mentioned a while back that I might have made a closet orphan.

For those not familiar with the term, it is a garment that goes with nothing else you own.  I try really hard not to do this, as I have a Victorian closet, and the rods are tiny.  I can't afford to have a bunch of garments that don't go with anything, and my mornings are sufficiently hectic that I can't spare a lot of brain space trying to put outfits together.  I try to make things that will go with items already in my closet, or that will go together if I'm making an outfit.  But good intentions and all that.

At the end of the summer, I was browsing etsy for patterns inspiration, and I ran across this image:

I confess, I fell madly in love with the brown jumper, and decided it needed a place in my sewing queue and closet.  I knew that I wouldn't really wear a checkered collared shirt like the one pictured very much, so I decided against making one like it.

The original pattern wasn't in my size and was not at a price point I was willing to pay, so when I ran across this McCall's pattern, I thought it would work nicely!  It doesn't have princess seams like the original, and doesn't button up the front, but I wasn't super keen to make a jumper with 10 buttonholes on it.  I used some brown check flannel from my stash, omitted the lining and bound the edges with brown bias, and Bob's your uncle!  It went together quite quickly, and I've worn it a few times now, but have struggled to find things to go with it because of the neckline and shoulders.  

The shoulders are quite wide (I probably could have narrowed them a bit, but this style is actually a bit more accurate to the 40s anyway, and I think takes away the 50s vibe from the original, which is fine by me).  The square neckline has proved tricky to pair with other items in my wardrobe, as it really needs a high neckline, and the brown check is just busy enough that it needs a solid color under it.  In short: this jumper was in grave danger of becoming a closet orphan.  I did wear it with my red boat neck shirt, which looked fine, and today I remembered I had this blue knit shirt in with my winter sweaters, and it works well.  I think I can toss a heavier pullover sweater over it in colder weather and it will look well as a faux-skirt too.  I have a blue collared button down blouse that will probably work with it as well; sometimes I find it takes a while for a garment to settle into my wardrobe. 

I shortened the bodice by 1/2" based on my pattern measurements and previous experience with 50s pattern drafting, but probably didn't need to, as the waist is a smidge high (but being short waisted has its advantages occasionally)

I was a little concerned about the frump factor, but I think, after seeing the photos, that it is okay.  It will also look better with my brown laced up boots, once the weather gets a bit colder.

In other news, I'm starting to get to the bottom of my cold-weather sewing pile.  I've reassessed my list, and I think at this point, I've got one or two more skirts to sew, another Frankendress, and the 1917 Coat Dress, plus a special little side project that I've been scheming for a while.  I'm struggling a lot with energy levels lately, and feel like I spend a lot of my days moving underwater, which isn't great for my sewing mojo.  I also find that I'm shifting more to my knitwear list as the weather has turned, which is fine too.  Series Two of the Miss Fisher Mysteries just hit Netflix, so I've got plenty of stuff to keep me company while I knit!  A while back, I had started work on two garments that I realize now are going to be better to wear in the spring, so I think I will wait to finish them until then.  No point in spending sewing time on something I can't wear for a good long while.

Details:

Jumper: McCalls 9464, Brown check flannel from Robert Kaufman (I think; it is sold out on fabric.com)

Blue knit shirt: Merona (thrifted ages ago)

John Horse brooch: Acorn and Will

Shoes: Dankso via ebay

Tights: Foot traffic via Sock Dreams

Earrings: from my mom

Yarn Along: Gauntlets

For those of us who blog our sewing, I think that failures can be just as instructive as the wins (sometimes more so!)  So I present: two failures.

First is a blouse that never even got far enough to model.  I was trying to use my lute scrap fabric to make cuffs on a 3/4 sleeve blouse that I've made before, but I made a fitting error at the shoulders, and in trying to fix it, made a complete mosh of it.  I also realized, after fighting with the fabric for an hour or two, that I had absolutely no interest in wearing this fabric next to my skin.  I really like Art Gallery's prints, but I'm a little less impressed with their Pure Elements line of solid colors.  I'm really struggling to find a line of woven cotton solids that presses well, feels good against the skin, has a range of colors, and has a nice drape to it without being tissue thin.  Art Gallery's stuff is pretty close to poplin, which is great for a super tailored look, but it wasn't really what I was going for.  The Pure Elements line also does not press well after laundering, so I don't love that about it either.  (For the record, I don't really throw my failures in the trash can; I have two friends who take my unusable-to-me fabric scraps for quilting and other fabric crafts)

In progress: fighting with the neckband

Moving on.  Next up is this blouse, made with Butterick's 5557 pattern reissue of a 1955 original.  The pattern art would suggest an extremely fitted silhouette, but I forgot that reissues frequently add in 5-10 inches of ease that wasn't in the original draft.  Butterick is also kind of bad about providing finished garment measurements, so I cut my usual vintage size (20) and hoped for the best, but this blouse turned out at least two sizes too big.  There are some drafting issues with the neck facing pieces (they don't fit at the corners!) and I had to recut the pieces longer.  I also fought a lot to attach the neckline binding, and the finish isn't very precise and my mitered corners are pretty much a disaster.



I'm still trying to decide if it is wearable or not--I pinched out a ton of excess at the neckline (2 1/2 inches at the back and about 1 1/2 inches at the front), but there is still a ton of excess fabric under the arms, and the neckline pulls oddly.   And, as much as I love kimono sleeves, the longer dolman sleeve version don't do me any favors, I think.  I really need to find a 3/4 length raglan sleeve that suits me, as I think that would fix my shoulder fitting issues and my upper arm fitting issues in one fell swoop.  I'm hoping that Collette's new Dahlia pattern will provide a raglan bodice block for me.

I really like the contrast fabric with this shamrock green cotton (from Cotton + Steel, which is currently in the running for a good cotton solid), but I don't love this blouse.   The contrast was a small scrap from my gram's stash, and I could make another blouse with the binding, I think.  I might deconstruct it and try to cut something else out of it.

But, I did make some gauntlets this week!  I used most of a skein of left over yarn from the Katniss cowl and made some chunky eyelet gauntlets.

I like the style, but I think I would prefer a less bulky version--I really like the mallard blue ones that Claire wears in quite a few Outlander scenes, and they look to me more like fingering or sport weight.

As for reading, I dipped back into Voyager, and I'm still poking away at Albion's Seed.  Also, because I'm a historian and a geek, I started researching 18th century clothing construction, and found two websites that proved particularly helpful.  I'm interested to try a few of the techniques.

 Joining Ginny for Yarn Along.

Talking Tuesday: Apprenticeship, the Craftsman, and Restoring Mayberry

I recently finished reading Overdressed, which is a nice follow up book to Cheap (different author, but same topic; Overdressed is just focused specifically on clothing).  I have a lot of thoughts about the book, but I think Brian Kaller exactly articulated what has been on my mind with his post from yesterday, where he discusses going to see a horse farrier, a young man who learned his craft with a four-year apprenticeship, and now finds himself with more work he can handle.  The world is what we make of it, and I think our current system cannot long last given the strains on the environment, the dislocation of communities, and the basic alienation that comes with modern living.  At some point, something has got to give.  It is just hard to see how or where that will happen, and what the fall out will be.

In any case, I've always made a strong case for apprenticeship, tradesmanship, and vocational schooling above traditional higher education, as it serves many more people, and definitely serves society as a whole better.  I say this as someone who was an academic, and enjoyed graduate school and the whole scene.  I think at the end of the day, however, we need to be training our children to do things, to make, fix, repair, get their hands dirty. 

I'm struggling lately with a vision of simple life that is quite incompatible with city living.  It probably is incompatible with post modern life, setting aside the urban setting, but that vision sits in my brain and tantalizes me, makes me long for wide open spaces, agrarian existence, in rhythm with the seasons, living a bit closer to the ground.  I find myself with a renewed interest in the ways of doing from pre-modern times.  I keep thinking about the ways that we are constantly told to eat, and how at odds it is with the ways that people ate in the times before supermarkets, and food chains that stretched from coast to coast.  I think about the rhythms of the day, and the pace of life, and how much slower it all was.  The price of social mobility is social isolation and the breakdown of communal culture.  As much as the online marketplace makes my life easier, as much as I enjoy social media, and utilize e-mail and other forms of digital communication, I do think there is a human cost involved, not just for me, but for the larger community in the frenetic pace of it all, in the abstraction of work and doing, in the long distances we travel for work and school, and how far we must go to make a life.  

Kaller writes: 

"Of course, most people did not attain such rank, but most people of any rank had a palette of survival skills unknown to almost any modern person. Farmers with little money or formal education would have known how to deliver a calf, weave a basket, butcher a pig, keep bees, shear sheep, turn autumn fruit into wine or spirits, make hay and silage, forage for wild plants, dig the peat bog for winter fuel and coppice trees on a timetable that stretched across the generations."

Brian Kaller, Restoring Mayberry, Able Hands, November 3, 2014 

Lately, I find myself craving the stolidity of place in a fixed system, a human scale to daily interaction, and a more organic rhythm to life.  The city suffocates me sometimes.  I just don't know how to find these things in the post modern world, or at least, the post modern world in a busy urban setting.  I continue to think on these things, and to ponder, and to dream about wide open spaces.  With horses.

Rusty Buttons ~wiws~

I spent a few hours yesterday putting my first corduroy skirt together. I've mostly worked with mid-weight woven fabric up to now, and corduroy was a grand lesson in finger pressing, but I'm fairly pleased with the end result.  I'm really loving the rust color.  It goes with several things in my closet and is one of the few true "fall" like colors that I can wear (most of them wash me out).  

I used the skirt half of my Frankendress pattern (McCall's 4275) and added the pockets from the Simplicity 1797, plus a waist band. I had in mind to make detachable suspenders to make it a jumper type skirt, but ran out of time. I have the suspenders cut, but can sew them up the next time I get out my machine. I'm also waiting on the buttons I wanted to use for the suspenders, so that was fine anyway.

Because it was corduroy and prone to fraying, I used Hong Kong seams to finish the insides. I wish in retrospect that I was better at French seams, as I think it would have been easier. The bias I used was a bit narrow for the fabric, so it was pesky to put on. I'm just glad it was a four gore skirt and not a six gore!  I also used bias on the hem and machine finished it, which made it a bit longer than is possibly ideal on my frame, but I'm kind of wanting slightly longer hems right now, so I'm going to leave it.  I can always hem it up higher at a later date if I want to.

Considering my fitting issues for skirts, this one came out pretty well--I'm off maybe 1/2" on the waist, and I could cinch it with a belt.  

I used a vintage button I got in a mosh of rust colored buttons, but it is over a snap because I just didn't feel like working a buttonhole yesterday.  Might go back and do one later.

I wore this outfit to church this morning, and ended up throwing the shawl on over it, as it has turned cold these last days.  The wind was fierce today as well (gusts up to 50 mph at times), so I was grateful for another layer over my coat.  

I didn't interface the waistband because I wasn't sure how to use fusible with corduroy, so the top part wants to roll out a bit, but that happens with interfaced bands too, so I guess it can't be helped.

Blurry action shot.

Details:

Green knit top: Old Navy via ThredUp

Navy camisole (under green top): Twice

Scarf: Target

Shawl: Ralph Lauren via Burlington Coat Factory (I think--or possibly Ross; I've had it a long time)

Boots: LLBean mid-calf wellie

Sunglasses: Retronetty (ebay)

Earrings: Kohl's 

Linking with FLAP.