In Praise of Stretch Poplin

What a provocative blog title, eh? I can't help myself. For most of my life I avoided poplin because it was what uncomfortable summer clothes were made out of--at least when I was a kid. But then I saw this pattern and simply had to make it.

I wanted to make it as close to the short-sleeve version as possible. I had red buttons and a vintage red belt buckle (I even have the red fedora and pheasant feather) so all I needed was the proper weight blue fabric. I have to order most of my fabric online, since the nearest fabric store is 200 miles away, and when I do go to the fabric store, my husband often waits in the car if he has no where else to go. You can imagine how relaxing that is, so I take my chances online.

I found a fabric that was the perfect color and according to the description it was crisp, but draped well. It was also poplin. Stretch poplin. I bought it anyway, because of the color, and once I started working with it, I realized that a few bad pedal pusher experiences had made me into a poplin snob.

So the fabric worked out. The pattern, not so much.

I started carefully unfolding and ironing and discovered that the pieces had a name written on them--Helen Tracy.

How quaint, thought I. Did she sew with friends? Was she part of a home economics class? I happily pondered possibilities until I started finding pattern pieces with different names.

And then I started noticing duplicate letters identifying the pattern pieces--two K's. No L. In fact there were not only pieces that didn't belong in the envelope, some very essential pieces--the bodice pieces, for example- were missing. Too many pieces to fake it. Helen was very careless with her pattern.

I regrouped and found another pattern that was similar and started ironing again. No names and all the pieces were there.

Before starting to sew, I played with the idea of top stitching in red, but decided against it. For a kid's dress, maybe. For me, no.

As usual, the pattern callously called for a zillion bound buttonholes. Instead I got out my beloved 1956 Singer and used the buttonholer. 

In a matter of minutes, I had a row of beautiful buttonholes and I hadn't cursed or cried once.

I'm in love with this collar. I don't like fusible interfacings, so I used a crisp woven sew-in.

The skirt front has pockets set on the edge of a sewn down pleat that flairs beneath the pocket.

I cuffed the sleeves and top-stitched the edges. There are some pretty healthy shoulder pads under that poplin--3/4 inch, I believe.

I made the belt from belting I borrowed from a vintage belt kit. 

I made belt loops from thread. My mother taught me to do this and I've always enjoyed the process.

And here's the reveal...in our snowless landscape. Usually in January it's cold and snowy. This January, I'm in my shirt sleeves, wearing heels. 

This dress is really comfortable. I'll definitely be making more in this style. 

One more view, showing the useful pockets. 

The Great Dickens Fair

I've just returned from The Great Dicken's Christmas Fair and am happy to report that a wonderful time was had by all. This is my family, bellied up to the bar. I'm pleased to say I made almost everything in the photo, with the exception of my husband's vest (ran out of time), the lady's hats (can't imagine having the time) and the gentlemen's neck wear (I have to draw the line somewhere and neck wear just isn't my thing.)

The women of the family  wore versions of Simplicity 1818. My daughter is in lilac, Rachel in burgundy and I'm wearing my favorite color--deep dark green.

One of the challenges of wearing hoop skirts is traveling, but somehow we three  hoop-skirt wearers jammed ourselves into the backseat of the vehicle.

It was cozy, but putting on a hoop in the parking lot after arriving seemed gauche, and really, once we got settled, traveling wasn't too bad. I still don't have a clear picture of how we got back out of the car, but somehow we did.

Before leaving for the Fair, we took many photos--good thing because I had flash issues at the event and only got a couple usable photos. 

This is Rachel's dress:

This is me and my beloved:

Me and my son, Sherlock:

According to him, the game is afoot.

Here is Sherlock and his father:

I'm rather pleased my men's wear. The pants are Laughing Moon #106 California pants--historically accurate for the time--and made of wool. The frock coat (unfortunately a bit wrinkled from being packed) and Sherlock's vest are from Simplicity 2895. Next time I make a frock coat, I'm using heavier wool. Sherlock's coat and deer stalker are from Simplicity 2517. Finally, their shirts are Laughing Moon #107 Men's Victorian and Edwardian Shirts:

I had to shorten the shirts--if you follow the pattern, they go almost to the knee.They're worn with studs and have detachable cuffs and collars.

I must confess that one of my favorite moments of the day occurred before the Fair began, when a woman approached and asked where we got our costumes. Why from a little basement sewing room in the middle of Nevada.

Simplicity 1818--Done!

The  Victorian dress is done!

I finished this weekend and while I'm quite pleased by the way it turned out, I'm frustrated by the difficulties in photographing it. I have two choices in the dim winter light--a little too dark or the blazing effect of a camera flash reflecting off taffeta. I'm hoping to get better lighting this weekend, even if I have to haul Tillie outside.

Here's the bodice (displaying a moderately blinding flash effect) without the sleeves.

And here are the sleeves:

The elastic in the top rides comfortably just above the elbow, allowing the sleeves to billow out. Back in the day, the sleeves had ties instead of elastic, of course.

The Victorian silhouette is different than a modern day silhouette, so the bodice is padded above the chest.

The pad looks like this and is attached to the armhole. It's made of two layers of batting in a cover.

And since Tillie's jacket is open, this is a good time to take a look at the chemisette, which is kind of like a Victorian dickie. It allows for a collar and blouse effect without the bulk of an actual blouse.

The chemisette ties at the sides:

Here's the back of the dress. I love the point.

The center back, the side seams and the front darts are boned for the bottom 6-8 inches, to help the bodice keep it's shape.

I can't wait to post some photos of Rachel modeling the dress.

Now that I'm done with this project (except for the hem), I'm forging on into men's wear territory. The next project is a pair of Victorian pants to go with my husband's frock coat. I hope to finish by this weekend. Wish me luck.

Simplicity 1818--How to Put A Lot of Fabric onto a Small Waistband

Before making my first Victorian skirt, I'd given no thought to how all those yards of fabric were attached to a small waistband. If someone had asked me, I would have guessed that the fabric was gathered and sewn onto the waistband in the usual way. I would have been very wrong.

The skirt from Simplicity 1818 is 170 inches wide--the width doesn't vary with the size of the pattern, only the size of the waistband changes. The waistband I'm using for this skirt has a total length of 29.5 inches. Gathering 170 inches of fabric onto a waistband that size would probably be impossible. No...I'm going to go out on a limb and say that it is impossible--especially if one is using taffeta, as I am.

Instead of gathers, the waistband is pleated in two different ways. The front and sides are pleated with a series of overlapping pleats while the back of the skirt is constructed with a clever kind of pleat--the accordion pleat--which allows a large amount of fabric to be attached to a very small length of waistband. Intrigued? Please read on... 

The accordion pleats are on the left, the overlapping pleats on the right.

The first step to making an accordion pleat is to mark dots, using a disappearing ink marker, every 3/8 of an inch across the 52 inch back panel, and then making a second set of dots 1/4 inch below that.Then buttonhole twist is used to sew through the dots. 

After completing this step, you get to abandon the accordion pleats for a bit and forge on with the more familiar overlapping pleats. These are made by folding the skirt at marked places and bringing those folds to a specific point and pinning them in place.

Overlapping pleats pinned in place in front and on sides. The back is prepped for the accordion pleats to be made next.

As the fabric is folded again and again to make the overlapping pleats, it gets very thick--too thick to apply the waistband in the normal fashion.

Therefore the waistband is sewn on by hand using a whip stitch. This is a lot easier than it sounds. I rather enjoy it, but a sharp needle is a must. At this point, only the overlapping pleats are attached to the waistband, leaving the rear portion of the skirt unattached.

The waistband being sewn to the skirt front.

After the pleated front and sides are attached to the waistband, it's time to deal with the back. As you can see, there's a lot of fabric to go on a very small amount of waistband. The first time I made this pattern, I was like, "Oh, yeah. This is going to work." But it did.

In this view, the skirt is folded in half. The front and sides are attached to each end of the waistband, leaving the back part unattached.The portion of the waistband held in place by the shears is the amount of waistband available for the entire back section of the skirt. 

To start making accordion pleats, all you do is pull the strings, creating folds.

Only the front edge of the fold is sewn to the waistband.... 

...so that the back part of the fold swings free.This is what allows a tremendous length of fabric to be attached to a short span of waistband.

Outside view of accordion pleats attached to waistband.

Inside view of accordion pleats, showing how only front fold is attached to waistband (lined in black cotton poly) while the rear fold swings free.

Front view of overlapped pleats:

Here's the back with the accordion pleats:

And here's my unpaid assistant, Tillie, modeling the unhemmed skirt. The skirt is supported by a 120 inch hoop and a crinoline.

Next, the jacket, which I hope to finish tomorrow before heading back to school on Tuesday. Wish me luck.