Winter Uniform: Whole Lotta Me

Today you get a whole lotta me.  As I said yesterday, I've been trying some different things, style-wise, trying to find a comfort zone that keeps me warm (I have terrible shaking spells of chills a few times a day) and fits around my swollen body.  Given that approximately 95% of my wardrobe is quite fitted through the torso for a 1940s silhouette, this has proved a bit challenging.  I'm trying to shift some of my wardrobe to the late 1910s, as I said yesterday, which is looser and more forgiving, but these things take time and energy, and I'm afraid I'm a little short on both at the moment.  I did cast on the 1918 pullover last night, so we'll see how that goes.

So without further ado, I present recent stylings.

This was an attempt at a 1920s-esque style.  It is pretty modern, I admit, but the vibe is there, and it is a decently comfortable outfit.

The chambray dress is this one from eshakti, the sweater is from target and the belt is an old one from H&M.  The hat is from Target a few years ago.

I know you saw this dress earlier in the fall, but I think this styling works better for the period.  I added a Pavlovo-Posad scarf I bought in Russia about 15 years ago, and a crochet cloche hat from etsy.

I made the gauntlets this fall.  I was initially unhappy with the length, but they work quite nicely with this dress.

I'm pretty pleased with this red outfit--I had bought the dress from an ebay seller, but the seller noticed some flaws after I bought it and decided to refund my money and send it to me anyway!  The flaws are pretty minor, and the corduroy is so soft and comfortable.  The collar reminds me of 1919 collar treatments.  The waist is maybe a little high for the period, but I think if I shorten the dress slightly and use the excess for a sash as on the coat dress, it will be quite perfect.  On the other hand, I might just wear it as is!

The shawl is a Russian Orenburg shawl I bought when I lived in Russia in 1998 and it remains a favorite of mine.  It is so delicate and beautiful, but it sheds like crazy!  

The dress is an old Eddie Bauer (I'm guessing late 1990s or early naughts, going by the style).  I borrowed the belt from my husband.  Trusty Modcloth boots.

Finally, another eshakti styling.  I have several knit dresses in this style, which I've shown here over the fall, and I'm wearing them a lot right now.  This outfit is kind of my winter uniform at the moment, as the dress is forgiving enough to my waist and yet can be styled in a variety of ways.  

Another Pavlovo-Posad scarf from my year in Moscow, plus the brown gauntlets I made in December.  It is a snowing a little today, which is why there are white streaks/specks on my pictures.

Celtic knot earrings from an etsy seller--I've worn them a lot this year.

I'm hoping that the extreme fatigue that plagues me lately will abate soon, as I'd like to remedy the deficiencies in my closet, but at least I do have some things to wear that I feel reasonably good about.

   Unfortunately, the blue sweater I blogged yesterday doesn't really fit me that well (too small/short), and I ended up changing the collar back to a straight turtleneck as the split collar mod didn't really look right.  I'm a bit disappointed and trying to decide what to do with it now.  At least I didn't waste all winter on it.

I also wanted to give a shout out to vintage blogger and sewer Stephanie, as I loved her post today about what our clothes say about us.  I often wonder if I spend too much time thinking about clothes, but especially after reading Anne Hollander's book, and now Stephanie's post, I think it is healthy to be moderately concerned with appearances.

Yarn Along: 1930s Inspired Sweater and Anne Hollander

Linking with Ginny for Yarn Along!

I'm nearly finished the Mallard 1930s inspired sweater!  I know it doesn't look like much here, but I think the collar is what will finish it properly.  The pattern is for a basic turtleneck, but I'm modifying it to be an asymmetrical fold-over split collar.  I can't find an exact extant example, but it is definitely in the spirit of the 1930s.

1919 beach photo

I'm finding my style interests have shifted a bit earlier these last few months--I'm really inspired by the Great War era (1915-1921 or so), as well as the early to mid-1930s.  I suppose I like the more relaxed silhouette of the Great War, and the longer skirt lengths.  I find my hair is easier to style for the late 1910s and early 1930s at its current length and state.  I also like the softer shoulders and higher waist line of the 1930s, plus the interesting neckline details, asymmetric collars, and button details.  The silhouette of the 1930s is closer to my actual silhouette at the moment, as I've lost a lot of waist definition these last months, and am now closer to a rectangle than an inverted triangle.  Looking at the patterns of the 1930s, one might think that 30s fashions are for the very slim only, but I think it is more about the shape of the body under the clothing (which would have been supported and shaped by major foundation garments in any case)  The early 1930s were mostly a straight up and down silhouette, whereas the late 1930s and early 1940s returned to a more hourglass silhouette with lots of waist and shoulder definition.  The patterns of the early 1920s and 1930s are actually drafted for slightly different "ideal" measurements than those of the late 1930s and early 1940s.  (There is a whole essay I could write on pattern sizing and ready-to-wear sizing, and I'm planning to, but I need to start sleeping more before I start writing serious prose)

1919 studio portrait, winter ensembles

After doing a lot of image research on the 1930s, I realized that my Frankenpattern is actually quite close to a number of early 1930s house dresses (which saves me a bit of time and trouble!)  My idea book is filled with late 1910s/early 1930s sewing plans, and my next knitting project is a 1919 pullover sweater.  I have an early 1930s style Hooverette cut out and ready for sewing (I just need to draft a collar and sleeve cuffs)  As nothing I made this past fall and early winter currently fits me well, I'm trying to style some of my eshakti knit dresses and the 1917 coat dress in period ways.  I'll show a few of my (admittedly amateur) efforts in this direction tomorrow.

My book is Seeing Through Clothes by Anne Hollander--I'm about three quarters through it, and it is excellent.  She talks about the intersection of art, photography, and what is considered normative in dress and appearance.  She has so many wonderful observations about how norms for the female and male forms have changed over time, and how art not only reflects and influences those changes, but also how nude art reflects the clothing norms of the day.  Given how visual and image-driven our own society has become, I'm fascinated.  I'll probably devote a Talking Tuesday post (or two!) to some of her more provocative passages.

Talking Tuesday: The Poverty of the Past

I'm not normally a fan of Megan McArdle's writing, but I think in this case, she's hit the nail on the head.  She writes in response to Joni Ernst's post about the poverty of her upbringing--a post that prompted much teasing and laughter on social media.  (Rod Dreher's commentary on the same is also worth reading). McArdle reminds us why history is important--it reminds us of where we've come from, and more importantly, who we are.  We forget at our peril.

"In every generation, we forget how much poorer we used to be, and then we forget that we have forgotten. We focus on the things that seem funny or monstrous or quaint and darling. Somehow the simplest and most important fact -- the immense differences between their living standards and ours -- slides right past our eye. And when Ernst tried to remind us, people didn't say "Wow, we've really come a long way"; they pointed and laughed."

Megan McArdle, "When Bread Bags Weren't Funny" Bloombergview.com blog, January 29, 2015

I'm less concerned by the forgetting as by the disdain with which our modern society treats the past.  Forgetfulness is common--natural even--to the process of getting older--of change; to deride the past, to think it has nothing to teach us, to belittle the experience and memory of those who do remember, well, that is dangerous.  

HSM #1: Foundation

My first Historical Sew Monthly post!  I didn't think I was going to be able to meet the challenge this month--I had planned to make something else, but things went awry earlier in the month and I just haven't had the time or energy to fix it properly. I'm also reconsidering my focus for these challenges; as much I love the mid-18th century, it is a little hard to pull it off in daily life without looking costume-y and I don't really want to sew a bunch of stuff I can't wear regularly.  Going forward, my sewing plans are mostly for early 20th century garments.

That said, I figured I was out for January's challenge.  Then I read Leimomi's post about the theme, and I remembered the petticoat skirt I made in mid-December, and realized it was a perfect entry.  It isn't a foundation garment, but it does form the foundation of the outfit I've put together.  It is a modern mix--the jacket is from eshakti.com, and the off-white shirt is from Old Navy, but the stays are period appropriate, as is the skirt. (A note about the stays--they are surprisingly wearable!  I wanted to try them to help my posture a bit and I'm surprised at how easy they are to put on and to wear.  I like the front-laced look, but back lacing is more comfortable overall)

Petticoat skirts are so clever--in the days before zipper and press stud closures, garments had to be laced, buttoned, or pinned shut with straight pins.  In addition, common garments had to be easily sewn, since nearly everything was sewn by hand in the home.  Petticoat skirts are basically two rectangles of material, used selvage to selvage, and hemmed up the side, leaving the top 9" open for pocket access.

Pockets were worn separately underneath. The bottom was hemmed to length (although often it was hemmed to length at the top, rather than the bottom as I've done). The material was pleated to linen tapes, which were used to wrap around the body to secure the skirt.  The tapes and side openings made the skirt extremely adjustable; in a time when women spent much of their lives pregnant or recovering from pregnancy, this is an important feature.

Petticoat skirts were made of lots of different types of materials, including linen, wool, quilted cotton, or silk.  Until the late 18th century, however, linen and wool were most common.  They were quilted and/or layered for additional warmth during colder months.  During the 18th century, pocket hoops and a bum roll were often worn underneath to pad out the sides and back.  I have enough padding without them, however!

My version is made from 100% cotton Shetland flannel since wool is a bit beyond my budget for this sort of thing.  I used premade polyester bias tape instead of linen for the same reason.  I sewed the whole skirt by machine instead of by hand because I wanted a quick and easy project, and, as this is just for my own amusement, I'm not so concerned about 100% historical accuracy.

The Challenge: Foundation

Fabric: 2 yards Robert Kaufman Shetland Flannel in Basil

Pattern: self-draped from Koshka the Cat's tutorial  (she has a good picture of how they look as one is putting them on, which I found useful to visualize during the planning stages)

Year: 1740s/1750s

Notions: Wrights Bias tape (2 packages)

How historically accurate is it? 5/10--I used modern construction techniques and materials, and my fabric wouldn't be accurate for the period--cotton was very expensive until the late 18th century.  It is a garment that would be recognizable to an 18th century person, however.

Hours to complete: about 2

First worn: January 2015

Total cost: about $20 for the fabric, thread, and bias tape

*The white stuff on my skirt is snow; we were supposed to have some big snowpocalypse, but it turned out to be just a nice dusting. I brushed against some cars as I was taking these photos and got snowy in the process.

Talking Tuesday: Pressed for Time

Last week I read a fantastic book review about the modern experience of time and how that intersects with our heavy use of ICT (information/communications technologies).  The book, Pressed for Time, by Judy Wajcman, explores the relationship between the perceived pace of life and technology's role in making it so.  Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow notes that our present experience of time is one that is harried, frazzled, distracted, ever more fractured.  The pace of life feels too fast and we increasingly want to yell, "Stop the world!  I want to get off!"  And yet it is hard to renounce all that in an increasingly digital and hyper-connected world.  Wajcman doesn't seem so concerned by the hyper-connectivity, but rather points out that we do in fact have as much time as we ever did, but that we lack sovereignty over that time.  Likewise, our expectation of a strict dichotomy of work and family life, the public-private divide is an industrial construct.  It is perhaps one that we should not be eager to enshrine.  Tuhus-Dubrow writes:

"We don’t have less time than ever; on the contrary, life expectancy has steadily increased. What we have, at this latest point so far in human history, is more of so much else—more people, more books, more cultural products of every kind, in addition to the staggering volume of online content. We feel ever more acutely the mismatch between available time and all the possible ways we could spend it. Population growth has overlooked effects: even if Steven Pinker is right that per capita violence has declined, something horrible is always happening to someone, and thanks to our ICTs, we’re going to hear about it in “real time.” This fosters a sense of relentless drama, of the world spiraling out of control, and chronic low-grade anxiety.

"And yet, despite the ostensible constant novelty—new information, new communication, new techno-toys—there is a numbing sameness to the experience of daily life for many of us. Too much of life is spent in the same essential way: clicking and typing and scrolling, liking and tweeting, assimilating the latest horrors from the news. And this relates back to the speed of time’s passage. True experiential variety, the social scientists tell us, is what gives life the feeling of passing more slowly—getting out of our routines, having adventures. It’s when the days pass by in a barely distinguishable blur that we look back and think, “Where did the time go?”"

Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow, Speed Kills, The Nation.com, January 13, 2015

I don't think there are easy answers to the conundrum of time and technology in the post modern world.  We can try to do things the old fashioned way, to disconnect from time to time, to do manual work when a machine could do it for us, to get away from click and scrolling through our days, every day, all day, but I think we are never going to be rid of it entirely, short of joining a monastery or abandoning modern society.  We are a communal people, and even the most determined hermit needs human contact from time to time.  There is only so much we can do to stem the tide.  But I do think it is important to do so.

Headfirst into the Wall

Lately, I find myself running headfirst into a wall called reality.  I make plans, do research, dream big dreams, think big thoughts, and then, BAM, life intervenes.  We are in the middle of a pretty tough season with the kids, health-wise.  The last eight weeks have been almost non-stop with illness, ER watch, ER visit, hospital admission, viral respiratory infection layered upon viral respiratory infection with a few bacterial infections, plus a nice GI bug or two thrown in for variety.   Coming after a pretty challenging late summer and early fall, the illness, the worry, the isolation, the fatigue--it presses on me.

I find that a lot of my creative energy has drained away, at least temporarily.  I have two projects in the hopper, both half-finished, and absolutely no desire to sew them.  I keep thinking about them, picking at the details, the problems that made me shelve them to start with, the tricky bits that make me want to throw them in the bin and never think about them again.  I want someone else to finish them for me, it is that bad right now.  It is really hard for me to walk away from unfinished projects--they nag me from their cabinet.  It is like clothing that doesn't fit--it calls me from the closet or the storage bin, nagging me, crowding my mind, taunting my feeble efforts to get my body back after five babies and eight years of serious sleep deprivation.  (To be fair, my body was never some svelte thing, but it was better than it is now).

I've found myself knitting a lot lately, because it requires less of me.  I'm researching some essays I want to write about historical dress, body image, clothing fit, and some other related topics.  It is not a bad way to spend my (admittedly limited) free time, but it just feels so unproductive somehow.  I have cotton waiting to be made into 1930s style dresses!  Linen that needs to be finished into a shift!  Flannel that needs to be finished as a jacket!  It is quite ridiculous, really.  I have quite enough clothing.  Yet, I find myself trying on three or four outfits every morning and discarding them one by one.  Nothing feels right.  It doesn't help that a lot of my clothing is either a tad big or a tad small, depending on where I'm at in my cycle and how well my gut is feeling.  I want my long hair back, but like how this shorter layered style masks how thin and patchy my hair has become.  I'm dreadfully cold all the time, but have occasional hot flashes thanks to some seriously messed up hormones, so I'm struggling to find appropriate layering options.   I vacillate between wanting to wear completely shapeless garments with long baggy sweaters (of which I own exactly zero) and my normal fitted 1930s/1940s silhouette.

Anyway.  Forgive my long ramblings about First World Problems.  On the bright side, I've got the back and most of the front of a sweater completed, and this one is shaping up well (fingers crossed that I actually want to wear it).  Perhaps the lesson of this season is to do what I can with what is in front of me, and right now, that is wool and needles.  And try to let it be enough.

Yarn Along: Blue Sweater Redux and Andi Mitchell

Nothing to see here--just frogged the blue sweater and started fresh with a new pattern (as I predicted I would).  I finished the back last night (in record time too!) and cast on the front this afternoon.  I'm hoping that I've calculated the negative ease properly.  

Bonus points if you can name that book in the upper right corner.

I finished reading Andi Mitchell's memoir It Was Me All Along last night and it was an excellent read.   I did think her editor could have done a tighter job with the prose in a few places, as there are several sections that would have benefited from shorter sentences or a well placed comma or semi-colon, but overall, I enjoyed it, and found some things to think about.  I've been reading Andi's blog, Can You Stay for Dinner for a long time now, and the book dovetails nicely with the blog.

Linking with Ginny for Yarn Along.