Jacket

Jacket

1590-1630

Great Britain

This simple unlined jacket represents an informal style of clothing worn by women in the early 17th century. Unlike more fitted waistcoats, this loose, unshaped jacket may have been worn during pregnancy. A repeating pattern of curving scrolls covers the linen from which spring sweet peas, oak leaves, acorns, columbine, lilies, pansies, borage, hawthorn, strawberries and honeysuckle embroidered in coloured silks, silver and silver-gilt threads. The embroidery stitches include chain, stem, satin, dot and double-plait stitch, as well as knots and couching of the metal threads. Sleeves and sides are embroidered together with an insertion stitch in two shades of green instead of a conventionally sewn seam. Although exquisitely worked, this jacket is crudely cut from a single layer of linen, indicating the work of a seamstress or embroiderer, someone without a tailor's training. It has no cuffs, collar or lining, and the sleeves are cut in one piece. The jacket was later altered to fit a thinner person. The sleeves were taken off, the armholes re-shaped, the sides cut down, and the sleeves set in again.

The Victoria & Albert Museum (Accession number: 919-1873)

Wake up babe a new open access review about Ice Age fashion just dropped.

Paleolithic eyed needles and the evolution of dress (Science Advances 28 June 2024)

This article uses the spread of bone awls and needles to trace the evolution of clothing from simple, minimally protective coverings to finely tailored, insulating garments across the geography of the Last Glacial Maximum. Not surprisingly, needle use is associated with cold climates and the need for warm, fitted clothing. But the wide variation in needle size, including very small ones for fine, delicate work, along with frequent discovery of shell and bone beads showing use wear consistent with rubbing against clothing, shows the evolution of clothing into dress. Bodily adornment transitioned to clothing to mark identity and status.

Fig. 4. Puncture marks consistent with leather hole punching on a bone fragment at Canyars, Catalonia, dated to 39,600 cal B.P. Scale bars, 1 cm. Photos: L. Doyon, F. d’Errico.

Fig. 5. Morphological variation in the size and shape of Late Pleistocene eyed needles. Scale bar, 1 cm. Modified from d’Errico et al.

Fig. 2. Nassarius kraussianu shell beads from Blombos Cave Still Bay layers, southern Africa, dated to approximately 73,000 to 70,000 years ago. Arrows indicate use-wear facets. Photos: F. d’Errico [modified after d’Errico et al.]

Hello, Stripes, you have my attention. ♥

La Mode: revue du monde élégant. Troisième année. Juillet. 1831. Paris. Pl. 166. Robes de Mousseline blanche et mousseline à raies brochées, façon de Melle Palmire. Coiffures de M. Hypolite — Bijoux de Chauffert, Palais royal. Bibliothèque nationale de France

Some colors just make my heart happy. This gown is peak Gothic, dating from 1840-1850, potentially of German origin. If you like layer cake gowns with staying power, this is ideal.

Miles of rose pink taffeta silk, Chinese style embroidery, and those mirrored V shapes at the bodice top and bottom just make this perfect for a princess (or a princess at heart). The embroidery at the bottom of the bodice just kills me it's so beautiful and delicate. Monochrome can be so beautiful!

Image Credit: © Historic Deerfield, Inc.

I never did update when this got finished last summer, did I?

Happy with how it turned out, even if it does take some serious hairpin architecture to construct a bun that'll hold the hat steady - it's a little heavier (and a lot more ready to blow around in the wind) than anticipated.

A New Crinoline and 1850s Petticoats

Finally getting around to posting about my new 1850s undies! I finished them last winter, but Life happened, so here I am, a year and a half later.

Anyway, I finished a new crinoline and basic cotton petticoat first. The crinoline was made by first making the lower section out of cotton muslin, and attaching twill tape at even intervals. I then made each bone individually, the casing made from twill tape, then the boning threaded through, and then the bone stitched closed at the needed circumference. I played around with the size of each bone before I stitched it to the tapes to get the overall shape that I wanted.

To go over it, I made my standard cotton petticoat with a single flounce.

Then I actually got around to reading period descriptions and suggestions for petticoats in fashion magazines of the time, and found that they frequently recommended petticoats made of grosgrain fabric, with three flounces from the knee to the hem. So, I searched the internet and finally found some grosgrain fabric, which I had to order from Greece. (Spoiler alert - grosgrain and faille are pretty much indistinguishable, which I wish I'd known before because faille is way easier to find.)

Anyway, the construction of the petticoat was not difficult, but the grosgrain fabric was a nightmare. It frayed at the slightest touch, exploding into a thousand tiny shards. My serger was garbage and not working, so I used a side cutter presser foot instead, which sort of acts as a serger. It definitely helped, but by the time I discovered said presser foot, I was already so over this project that I threw it in the naughty corner for months because I couldn't stand to work on it anymore. I finally dug it out a few months later and finished it up.

I have to say, it does give an enormous amount of floof, but I would never, ever recommend making one to anyone else. It was a nightmare from start to finish.

There's a more detailed writeup with more of my petticoat research and in-progress photos on my main blog, so please do check it out!