Is this the real thing?

This caught my eye a while ago. In fact, I have no idea why I haven't blogged about it before. 
This is the thing: Getting a general idea about how fashion changes over the decades is fairly simple. But if you get beyond that, read period sources and get an idea about the smaller trends and hypes that lasted maybe only one season, you get a different picture. And that's where interesting things happen. Many of my favorite looks from the late 1940's and 1950's fit into that category: Interesting designs that won't show up in a general view of those decades. I've shown examples of that in blog posts for a while and it was an important reason to start using Pinterest. But how great would it be to see some of those designs in real life?

I haven't had that chance yet but I think this is half-way there: The Gemeentemuseum here in The Hague is working on creating an online database of its collections (of fine art and crafts) and one of the things that is on there already is the haute couture wardrobe of opera singer Else Rijkens (1898-1953)(I'm sorry but the information is only in Dutch for now).  All the pieces on the site seem to be from the late 40's and early 50's. This may mean the museum still has to document the rest (I guess they are still working on it, that would be the only reasonable explanation for the variation in quality of the pictures) or maybe this was the time when the lady's career was in full bloom and she could afford haute couture. 
However... This means that what's already there covers my favorite years in fashion history!

And when I was browsing this database a few weeks ago, I noticed this dress:

Although it looks lilac in the picture, it is described as grey. And just look at that amazing skirt: Ray-of-the-sun style plissé from a zig-zag yoke... Wow.

It made me think of something I had pinned a while before that:

This dress from Beatrijs magazine. 
It appeared as an illustration for an article about practical fashion (basically about fashionable alternatives to the on-trend narrow skirts). The whole article talks about Dutch reality (rain, cycling) versus Parisian style (those narrow skirts, high heels, taking a taxi when the weather is less than nice) and yet they've chosen to publish it with pictures of glorious couture dresses...

There are clear similarities between the dresses in these pictures. First of all that amazing skirt, and both were created by the same designer: Jacques Griffe. They also have the same colour: Grey. 
After that, things get a bit sketchy. Else Rijkens's dress is made from silk taffeta, the one in Beatrijs from thin wool. The collars are different. It's not just a matter of buttoning up or down. You can see a simple notched collar in Beatrijs's picture which is obviously not there on Else's dress. And the dress in the magazine doesn't have a self-fabric belt. 
The front dart may be in different places but that's hard to tell from these pictures. The sleeves may the same.
The most curious bit of information is, again, in the written text: The woolen one appeared in the Beatrijs magazine of 20 April 1951, the dress in the museum is listed as being from 1952/1953...
The only explanation I can come up with is that the magazine may have used very recent pictures. Pictures which were taken at the same time that designs became available to order by couture customers. That might explain some delay, but not likely more than a year. Is it possible that designers in the early 1950's allowed their customers to order their favorite designs from previous seasons? Or could the museum simply be wrong about the date? 

Filling a gap

When I sorted through my clothes a couple of weeks back, I came across several little cardigans and jackets which I made several years ago. Bolero-like, waist length or shorter, often open-fronted and in many cases with short sleeves, these were among my early successful pattern making experiments. I don't remember why I sewed jackets to that scale back then but they were good practice. I used to wear them with skirts or trousers, layered over a RTW cotton turtleneck. 
In the past years, my style slightly shifted and they got worn less and less but I still like them. So, I would need something designed to go with them. I decided on a dress from a pointe knit.

To make sure it would go with the whole collection, I kept it really simple. And I wanted long sleeves.

You can see the actual style lines better in this sketch (although the dress has a simple straight skirt, not a tapered one).
At first, I wanted to use black fabric, but the piece in my stash was smaller than I thought. Instead, I used this grey pointe which was left over from the pair of trousers I made for my mother a few years ago.

The fit of the dress is quite good but I wasn't thrilled with the dress itself. I even considered to chop half the skirt off to a very unusual-for-me 1980's kind of length which might yet work when worn with thick tights.
However... I didn't make this dress to wear it on its own. 

It was made to allow me to enjoy wearing my little jackets and cardigans again and I really like how it looks with those! These are just two of them. There is another off-white cardi with three-quarterlength sleeves, a bolero with a snap at the waistline in tweed knit and two long sleeved waist length jackets (which I may prefer to wear with a sleeveless dress instead).

It may be a bit late in the season for this particular wardrobe addition but I think it will definitely serve its purpose.  

the suit

Ahem. I had a look in my blog archives and I actually made this jacket way back in 2011... What possessed me to wait this long to make matching bottoms? It was the intention all along and I know it has been among my sewing plans for winter for at least the past two years and very likely ever since I made the jacket. It took a lot of time and effort to make this jacket and I am still proud of it. Unfortunately, it's also a rather peculiar shape so it doesn't can't be worn with a lot of different things. The combination has made it one of those 'too good to wear items'... Which is always a pity. 

I hope that finally having a complete suit can put an end to that silliness. 

I already talked a bit about the trousers in my previous post. They are fairly basic: A shape with a slightly lowered crotch and some extra ease around the seat and thighs, tapered legs hemmed at ankle length (I know loads of people don't like that but I do. It somehow makes the whole silhouette a bit lighter and more playful. And I think it may just make me look a bit taller), front fly, narrow waistband at the natural waist, slash pockets at the front and double welt pockets with button loops at the back. 

I tried to get some pictures of the details but the camera didn't agree with so much black. That was even a problem with quite a few of the normal pictures. That and the fact that I was frowning in at least half of them. I don't know why. 

At least you can see the pockets here.

And actually, this suit is fun to wear.

I even did a pirouette...

which is more effective in a wide skirt but I don't think I have to be all serious just because I'm wearing a suit.

Oh well...

Inside my trousers...

or, not to worry, waistband considerations. 
I was just finishing up my new pair of trousers and realized some of my issues and choices about the waistband treatment might be worth sharing. I have to apologize for the pictures though: Each and every garment that was photographed for this post was either black or dark grey and you know what that means.
It's not very common for me to discuss construction details here but you may have noticed that I don't have a single style of trousers and/or waistbands and/or closures. I may make trousers with any kind of legs shapes, variety of rises, straight or shaped waistbands or faced edges above or below the waist. 

This time, I was making a pair of trousers to go with a jacket which has been waiting in my wardrobe for longer than I dare to admit. The fabric is a lovely mid-weight black wool suiting in a slight twill weave (as in, it has a twill weave but it doesn't stand out). The chosen shape is has a easy fit, tapered legs to the ankle and a narrow straight waistband at the natural waist. 
Because I hate that little fold you often get at the top of the zipper, I cut the fly shield with a bit of an extension which can close on the inside of the waistband. I think that's what you do to take care of that issue because it takes the pressure off at the top of the zipper and the button. 
It's a feature you sometimes see in RTW and I've used it before although usually on trousers without a waistband.

To get to grips with the industry standard, I took a look at E's only pair of formal trousers:

Here we get the extended fly shield with a button just under the waistband, a trouser hook and a small waistband extension with a button. It seems a bit much but of course, this type of treatment may have been developed for and by a group of people who don't have to undo all of that for a bathroom break... Or do they? I'm not sure.
Anyway, I think there's a lot of stuff going on at this waistband. The folded layers of the inner waistband itself, all that closure-stuff, lining at the front, pocket bags sewn into the waistband at the back (I tried that for E once and found he was more likely to tear those. I wouldn't do this for myself because there's a great big dart in that area) and that extra material at center back which allows you to make adjustments. 
I don't think I would do it like this if I were making E a pair of formal trousers but on the other hand, it's nice to see such a great deal of finishing and detail in RTW. At least they will do that for men's formal wear...

The inside of my trousers is more quiet. I used a straight waistband cut in one piece and a full lining. My fly shield extension, which was drafted, cut and sewn before I thought about looking inside E's trousers, has a very similar shape. 
I didn't really think about the fasteners themselves until after I had finished the waistband. Which was a mistake. I've had these hammer-in trouser hooks in my stash for a year and I've never used them even though I bought them because I suspected their performance might be superior to that of their sew-on relatives. 

I wanted these trousers to be really nice and they will go with a jacket which has fabric-covered buttons, so now was the time. Which meant I had to unpick part of the waistband to be able to prick those little prongs through one side only, slide on the back plate and hammer the prongs down to fix the whole thing in place. A bit nerve-wrecking because when you poke a hole in your brand-new, nearly finished piece of clothing, there's really no going back. 
I'm glad I did it though. It looks and feels a lot better than the alternative.

I had another issue when it came to the fly shield extension. I'm using that as a sort of secondary closure so it has to attach to the inner waistband in some way.

When I made these before, I've always put a buttonhole in the fly shield extension and a flat button on the inside of the waistband or facing. It works but I'm not that keen on the button gets pressed into my skin when I don't tuck anything in those trousers.
E's trouser have the button facing away from the body. And now I know why it's placed lower: They couldn't put a buttonhole in that waistband material. 
In my case, I could, if I had thought about it earlier, have come up with a way to put a buttonhole in, on or just below the inside of the waistband. But I didn't think of it earlier and I didn't want to unpick even more of a perfectly finished waistband for a solution I wasn't that sure about.
So, I compromised. I made a thread loop at the very end of the waistband at the fly extension and attached a small flat button to the inside of the waistband. At least this button will not sit on the thickest pile of fabric in the whole waistband. 

Oh, and I did, for a split second, consider using commercial waistband material. But the stuff I have has these plastic threads on the inside. I suppose those are meant to keep your shirt tucked in but if, like me, you wear your trousers without tucked-in things half the time, those get really, really scratchy and annoying. 
And on this skirt (I've used that stuff twice, on a pair of trousers and on a skirt and they were both hanging on the line to dry when I wanted to take these pictures, so that explains the wrinkles) you can also see a sewn-on trouser hook in situ. 

I think I'll take pictures of the finished trousers this weekend. In the mean time, I hope you like this bit of technical sewing geekiness.

Pattern pieces and bits of planning

In the comments to my previous post, some of you asked for a picture of the pattern pieces for my top. 

With a not-really-logical design like this, that is of course a perfectly reasonable request. So here they are:

I don't think you need any help with the back and sleeve, which are perfectly normal. The Studio Faro top is made in one piece but because my twist is at the neckline, I found it much easier to separate the underlying top piece. 
My top also includes a partial neckline binding which tapers down to nothing in the seams which connect the upper bust pieces to the 'shoulder straps'. 
I hope this makes it a bit clearer, and as mentioned before, I just winged this with the help of this tutorial. 

I didn't get round to taking more and nicer pictures of the top but I am convinced I will enjoy wearing it. 
I also have a yet-un-blogged sweater I made on the knitting machine and right now, I'm working on a pair of trousers to go with a jacket I made two years ago. I'm actually feeling a bit embarrassed it took me so long to do so. Especially since this fabric is a joy to work with and my idea about the general shape for these hasn't changed in the past year or so... Better late than never, I guess.

I find this a bit of an awkward time of year to plan sewing anyway: Obviously, it will be spring soon and I know lots of people have already started sewing for it but I still have so many nice ideas for warm clothes. Wool fabrics are my favorite to work with and my favorite looks are sort of dressy and tailored... And all of that is much more appropriate for winter-wear.
Maybe I should just go and make the corduroy or flannel dress I was thinking about before... At least those could be worn well into spring. But I'm also very temped to try and make a 1950's style suit...
And of course it's time to get started on my Vintage Sewing Pattern Pledge. I suppose in that case, the obstacle is my plan to explore some new-to-me fashion eras. Those things are harder to plan because I still have to get used to the looks and I don't really think I have a lot of 1930's and 1940's appropriate fabric in my stash.
To be honest, I think I will just go on sewing until the weather really warms up.

Quite similar, yet very different

Last week, I did a modest wardrobe clear-out. I mainly just removed things which didn't fit properly and those I really didn't like anymore. Of course, it's always a great moment to get a clear picture of what kind of clothes you need. Or don't need. I was reminded that I really don't need more jackets because I kept all the ones I have and I don't have many occasions to wear them. Which is a shame because I'm still sorely tempted to try and make a really 1950's style skirt suit... But that's a story for another blog post. 
What I do need are tops. Preferably in other colours than black which do suit at least some of my colourful skirts. And no plain long-sleeved t-shirts either. I like tops with a bit of interest...

Although that's not a short list of demands, it shouldn't be difficult. After all, there are loads of great patterns for tops out there and I'm not even limited to patterns. But it always seems difficult to come up with the right kind of top. Most of my skirts are kind of 1950's in style, but not all of them. Trouser styles are all over the place, from 1930's to eh... right now. It's been a year or so since I realized that I will never find any style of top which will work with all of them, and I'm OK with that now.
And yet: What was it to be this time?

After some brainstorming and looking at pretty pictures in search of inspiration, I ended up staring at this great little sweater on a picture in a Libelle magazine from 1956. The article was about high-quality French knitwear.

It's a lovely thing and I thought I would be able to create a shape like this in jersey. 
As you know, I've made plenty of twist-designs before but this is not quite the same. There are no visible seams in the lower bodice and yet at the top the right crosses over the left...
I think I should have been able to figure this out on my own but why try to re-invent the wheel? I was pretty sure I had seen a Studio Faro pattern puzzle tutorial that should work for this.

I had two options in mind:

The Double Drape Tee, which has criss-crossing draped bits at the neckline but at a very different angle

and the Drape & Twist Jersey which has draped bits which are more similar to those of my vintage inspiration but in the middle of the top.

I decided to start drafting the thing with a look at both tutorials and quickly found out it was the second one which would work in this case. 

And this is my end-result! The pictures aren't great. I had to use the self-timer again and I guess I'm out of practice with that and went back to that boring corner next to the dining table. Maybe I'll ask E to take some nicer pictures this weekend...
My vintage silk plissee skirt is looking pretty good in these though. I should wear it more often.

I took this picture to allow you a proper look at that drape detail. It's not quite the same as in the original image, partly because of the proportions which I had to make up as I went along (and I really don't understand the model's anatomy: her drape seems to be at the same point of her chest as mine yet it is wider even though here the cleavage of the top looks deeper...) and partly because I twisted part of the top drape when sewing it down. The shoulders on mine are also a bit wider. That and the long sleeves where by choice.
I think it looks good though.

The instructions for the drape were pretty clear but you can only see how it comes together when sewing. In this case, I already suspected the folds under the draped parts might be pulled open when wearing the top, and they did. I fixed that by sewing together the pleat seams at inside and tacking down the bottom pleat on the right (left in the picture. It's more visible like this than when I wear the top).

I'm happy with this addition to my wardrobe and I think I may try and make another version with a wider drape later.

1940's

Most of my vintage style sewing, and most of my vintage pattern and magazine collection, focusses on the period after 1947. Last year, I tried to use the Vintage Pattern Pledge to explore some other eras but I still steered clear from late 1930's and early 1940's. Those big shoulders just really put me off. And yet... I do quite like some of those interestingly draped styles (this is probably why I love 1948 to about 1952: round shoulders and long skirts but still quite a bit of that interesting stuff). And 1940's looks can look quite good on other people, so why not on me... I will definitely try it for this year's pledge and I guess I'm now starting to 'get my eye in' by looking at some early 1940's magazines from my collection.

Of course, there is another issue with the first half of the 1940's: I've occasionally read posts on other blogs in which 1940 was mentioned as a "favorite year in fashion" (apparently, McCall's had a really good year back then)  and that always seems strange to me. The reason is simple: To me, 1940 is not a  year in fashion, just in history. Of course, I realize that's a local view: I live in the Netherlands. For people here, the Second World War started with the nazi invasion of the country on 10 May 1940. 
In other places, the war came at different points in time.

Interestingly, among the other publications in the two boxes which contained my Gracieuse magazines, there were some German magazines. My theory about the whole collection is that it belonged to a professional seamstress. That alone can explain the sheer volume of magazines from just before 1920 to the early 1960's and the obvious preference for magazines with pattern sheets. The majority of the German magazines are of this brand: Beyer's. The earliest one is from 1937, there are a number from 1940 to 1942 and some from the mid-1950's. She must have liked this publication, probably because a lot of the designs in each issue are included on the pattern sheet.   
I should also add that there is only one reference to nazi rule in the entire collection: A small black-and-white advertisement at the back of one of the 1940 magazines, which promotes thriftiness in support of the war effort, carries a logo of a swastika in an iron cross. 

The images I will show you here today are from February 1940 (so, from a time at which there was nothing special about that year yet). 

Although Beyer's magazine gets thinner throughout the war, it always includes photographs, which I really like.

This issue includes quite a lot of designs which are promoted for their limited use of fabric (oddly, more so than later issues)

And there is a bit of everything: Mostly day dresses but also coat, suits and separates,

evening wear,

and even wedding gowns.

From the 70 designs in this magazine, 45 are included on the pattern sheet. I'm not sure I have all of those because there is only one, double sided pattern sheet while the 1937 magazine has two (although 60 patterns are included with that one). As usual with vintage sewing magazines, each pattern is only given in one size and Beyer defines its sizes by bust measurement (which is nice because it's clear what they're talking about. And there's even a sizing table which tells how what waist and hip measurements go with which bust sizes). The pattern sheet is scarily densely printed though...