Vampires, Pointe Shoes, and Pattern Alterations: A Bustle Ball Gown from Simplicity 4156

My “Golden Moonflower” Bustle Dress
Still haven’t settled on an official dress name yet.

I’ve never made a bustle dress from scratch before aside from my Simplicity 3723 bustle hack and a poorly executed (but entertaining) attempt at a Nerfpunk outfit. However, way back in August, I had decided I wanted to attend Dracula: The Ballet with the DFW Costumers Guild, so I purchased a gorgeous sequin-encrusted sari from eBay and decided it was time to try! I wanted something glittery and dark– it was a vampire story after all! I took a cue from one of my favorite dresses in the Met and decided to use Simplicity 4156 as the pattern base since it was handy and I like how it fits me:

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Sari Bustle Dress Design

After a hectic September, October was supposed to be comparatively calm and un-scheduled–free and clear for sewing a few big projects for upcoming DFW Costumers Guild events. However, as a pithy coffee mug once said, “Man plans; God laughs.” So, short on time and motivation, I threw up my hands at trying to attend the ballet with the Guild on the 17th. Of course you are now reading a post about the dress I wore, so SPOILER! I made it!

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A big THANK YOU to Kim and Greg for sharing their box seats with me!

Since I was so busy, I didn’t get a start on my dress until the week before. I’d never made an evening dress before, much less a bustle gown, so I was nervous. Nothing seemed to go my way! As you can see (hopefully, despite my bad watercoloring) in the original design, I wanted an all-black dress in satin and velvet, but I failed to find a satisfactory version of either. Instead, Christopher helped me pick out a lovely gold rayon/poly-whatever blend and a smooth black cotton/nylon blend: perhaps the strangest blend ever, but very simple to sew with and it had a dull sheen I liked.

For the pattern I turned to my trusty Simplicity 4156. While it is originally designed to be an 1890s walking dress with huge puff sleeves, the gored skirt is actually amazingly versatile and, minus the huge sleeves, the bodice is an excellent base for a classic vest-style 1880s bodice. Thanks to a summer of ice cream and days too hot to move, I had to make three mock-ups before I finally got the pattern to fit exactly as I wanted. I felt kinda proud of myself because after I did all the alterations, I found that Francis Grimble’s “Fashions of the Gilded Age” book had lots of helpful fitting advice that I unintentionally followed, particularly the adjustment for the “extra-erect” figure which, honestly, surprised me since I’d always thought of myself as rather hunched (this, as it turns out, is also paradoxically true).

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I did my third mockup in black cotton twill that I miraculously found at Walmart. I used the twill pieces to cut out my fashion fabric and then turned them into the lining. It was a little thick, but the stiffness meant that the bodice stayed smooth without adding boning to the seams. I fitted everything over my Hourglass Attire corset, a single cotton petticoat from Goodwill, my haphazard pink bustle cage (based on American Duchess’s free pattern), and the bum pad draped with a ruffled tablecloth from my Simplicity 3723 bustle project. The sheer weight of all the sequins on the sari combined with the heavy rayon blend was too much for my bustle to handle, so it’s not as booty-licious as I’d like. Still, lots of swish!

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I tried the cage over the bum pad and settled on putting it on the bottom because I needed the extra fluff the ruffles provided.

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I wore my absolute favorite pair of shoes: some 1980s black suede beauties with lace-up fronts. Sadly they are a size too small and falling to pieces.

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For the bustle, I just gathered and draped the back until I liked it. It’s made from a single length of fabric. I used the selvages as the hem and fringed the drape in front instead of hemming it. I was so short on time I even left the bottom of the underskirt unhemmed (it’s pinked).

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I was so rushed I didn’t take many in-progress photos. Honestly, most of it, especially the crossover front, I just wung. The only real in-progress shot I got was when I contemplated making the dress sleeveless with ruffles instead of 3/4 sleeved.

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Alterations I made to Simplicity 4156, an 1890s walking dress, into an 1880s evening gown:

-No balloon sleeves. I used the sleeve pattern from Simplicity 3723, actually. Fave sleeve pattern ever!
-No standing collar or cuffs. Even though I wanted them, I ran out of time.
-No side peplum. Peplums are very 1890s, so I cut down the front, but kept the back to make an 1880s-style bustle tail instead.
-Crossover bodice front.
-Randomly draped bustle.
-“Accidental” V neck.

You’ll notice that in my design and in this photo, the point d’esprit completely fills the neckline. Indeed, I got all the way done sewing on the high collar on Friday only to discover that the neckline pulled too far up so it choked me in front and gaped at the back. I discovered that even though I had to do an extra-erect posture adjustment, my neck angles forward as though I am hunched over.

…pretty much like a vulture’s posture in reverse…

I assumed if I could trim a half inch off the front neckline, I could just re-attached the collar and solve the problem enough to make the dress wearable. Then, the scissors slipped…

..and thus my dress is a V neck!

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 “Golden Moonflower” Costume Breakdown

Spangled silk georgette sari – $24.99
6 yards black cotton/nylon blend – $24.16
5 yards metallic rayon/poly blend – $19.30
2 yard cotton twill – $6.00
2 yards black pointe d’esprit – $8.15
1 spool of black thread – $2.49
Cotton sheet for mockup – Free! (remnants from Amelia’s Edwardian dress)

Dress Total: $85.09

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I bought the woven wire choker necklace on a whim last winter at a local antique mall not quite knowing what on earth I would do with it. Turns out my shopping sub-conscience is psychic! When I had to re-do the neckline, the woven choker filled it in perfectly.

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After having a horrible panic attack about how hideously hair-illiterate I am, Christopher calmed me down and curled my hair for me. Husband of the Year? More like eternity!

Accessories Breakdown:

Black suede shoes – $5.99
Black sheer stockings – $1 (Dollar Tree has amazing socks for costumes!)
Woven wire necklace – $6
Screw back earrings – $3
White faux roses to disguise lack of hair skills- $8.98

Outfit Total: $110.06

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Looking fabulous despite the messy craftroom, angry kitty, and wee morning hours?

PRICELESS!

Through the Keyhole: A Peek into a 17th Century Lady’s Wardrobe

Rare Examples of Extant 17th Century Clothing

For most of us, paintings are as close as we get to seeing what 17th century fashion was like. They’re a wonderful medium, but like fashion magazines today, most professional portraits aren’t nessisarily the be-all end-all holy grail of fashion. We only see a lady’s best clothing, and usually only the outer layer. Lighting, paint aging, pigment fading, artistic liberties, and angles all affect how the clothing looks vs. what the clothing actually was.

The most famous evidence of the trickery of relying solely on paintings is our vision of the 17th century Puritans wearing black and white. There are so many paintings of 17th century ladies in black gowns with white collars that it must have been very common. The Spanish especially loved the color for its lustrous richness, so much so that heavy black velvet became a hallmark of Spanish wealth and influence.

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Portrait of Jeronimo de Cevallos, 1613

Black was a common color; however, there’s a twist (isn’t there always?). Black was super-duper expensive to dye correctly. On any fabric other than leather, it was unstable and faded easily–usually to a horrible white-orange or bruised blue. Black was reserved for Sunday best and court clothing.

So if black wasn’t all that common everyday, why is it in so many paintings? Well, people generally wear their nicest clothes to have their portraits painted and if they use black fabric to make their nicest clothes, there are going to be a disproportionate number of paintings full of people wearing black. Think of your prom photos. Did everybody wear fluffy chiffon and match their date’s tuxedo everyday?

Finding extant clothing from 400 years ago is a genuine challenge, but there are a few pieces left. Thank heavens for museums (especially the V&A)! Here’s a collection of genuine items that have miraculously survived. Some of the artifacts are classic, a few strange, and many a surprise. So if 17th century ladies didn’t wear black all day everyday, what did they wear?

Inside the Wardrobe

Overgown, circa 1610-1615

O……. M…….G……..

The amazingness of this gown reduces me to blasphemous abbreviations! Look at how lovely, yet simple it is. The pleating and tabbed wings at the shoulders are heavenly! It is too bad there is no front photo so we can see how it closes. What you can see, however, is the beautiful hand-woven fabric from Italy and the decorative slashes that were punched by an English tailor. This beautiful wrapper has two small holes at the collar to attach a ruff and supportasse.

Ruff Edging, circa 1620-1629

Ruffs were worn until the 1620s. After that, the ruffs became looser and wider, eventually morphing into the gigantic collars the 17th century is known for. Ruffs came in all sizes and styles, some thin and flat, others cone-like and dense. This ruff is a reconstruction made to display the period lace.  Ruffs were generally made of linen and could be left plain or decorated with lace trim like this. It was made during the transitional period between the voluminous ruff and the draping collar.

Pickadil /Supportasse, circa 1600-1625

This tractor-seat-shaped item is actually called a  supportasse, though I’ve always heard them called pickadils (Supportasse is a French term, but if you mispronounce it, it sounds like it should be supporting something else! So, I’ll stick with pickadil). Ruffs, especially ornate large ones, needed support to stand up fashionably and frame the face. They are usually made of card covered in a pleasant fabric to match a dress. If you look at the picture of the overgown again, you can see that there is a pickadil attached to the collar. Pickadils were threaded onto gowns or robes through small holes in the back or tied in front if it needed to support a full-circle ruff. There is a street in London named after this 17th century contraption; you may have heard of it: it’s called Piccadilly!

Falling Collar, circa 1630

You really need to click on the picture to see just how huge this thing really is. It is 89 cm long and 32.5 cm wide. That’s over 1 yard long and a foot wide! This particular collar is actually a man’s collar. A woman’s collar would have a rounder fit about the neck. The squareness of this one makes it stand up and drape handsomely over a man’s doublet or coat (there is a lovely mannequin modelling the look in the archive). A woman would have worn hers over a bodice or jacket.

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The Margaret Layton Jacket, circa 1600-1620

This jacket/bodice is possibly the most famous non-royal fashion artifact from the 17th century. It was purchased by the Victoria and Albert Museum along with a painting of Margaret Layton in which she wears this very piece!

Portrait of Margaret Layton by Marcus Gheeraerts the Younger, circa 1620

If this isn’t a great opportunity to revisit the “portrait vs. reality” debate, nothing is! When you look at the bodice in the picture, you can tell that it is very much like the extant piece, but there are obvious differences. The pattern is enlarged in the painting and the flower colors and types vary. However, the artist did an amazing job. You can definitely see the resemblance between the two pieces! Here’s a tidbit from the archive record:

“The portrait of Margaret Layton, purchased with the bodice, is an intriguing example of early seventeenth-century English portraiture, as well as a unique example of a sitter shown wearing an extant garment. Comparison with the bodice shows that the artist has painted its distinguishing features with great care, undoubtedly reflecting the value that it held for the sitter. He has paid particular attention to its embroidery, reproducing in detail the individual motifs of birds, insects and flowers, while exercising a degree of artistic license in terms of their specific arrangement.”

“X-radiographs of the painting reveal that the artist produced two versions of the face. Beneath the visible likeness is an older-looking, slightly heavier image of Margaret Layton’s face. It would thus appear that the artist repainted her in a more youthful and idealized way, perhaps at her request, or that of her husband who was most likely to have commissioned and paid for the work. This alteration raises interesting questions, at present unanswerable, about the exact date of the painting and the occasion for which it was commissioned.”

 This bodice is beautiful. The embroidery is absolutely superb and took many many hours to complete. Amazingly, the Plimoth Plantation’s Historical Clothing and Textiles Department reproduced this jacket almost exactly, down to the materials, techniques, and smallest flower!

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The Plimoth Jacket “Faith,” circa 2009

The curling vine and flower motif on the Margaret Layton Jacket was popular in Britain at the start of the 1600s.

Jacket, circa 1600-1625

Here is another jacket with a similar motif. It is looser fitting, but was made around the same time. This much simpler jacket would be worn to less formal occasions or during pregnancy.It is made from linen sewn with colored silk thread. I love the bows closing up the front. Ladies in the 17th century adored the jacket. It was their favorite accessory after lace. Many Dutch paintings in particular show ladies in all manner of jackets: house jackets, bed jackets, fur jackets, satin, jackets..really, if there was a place to wear one, a lady would wear a jacket!

Jacket, circa 1600-1625

This jacket is different. Obviously, it is simpler than the others, but it’s method of decor consists of silver cording woven into the fabric itself. It also has two holes at the back to support a Pickadil and ruff. Again, this jacket is much looser than most from the 17th century, but its simplicity and fit might mean that this was a house jacket and would not have been worn in public.

Bodice, circa 1630-1639

This may look like a jacket, but don’t be fooled! Until the Regency era, jackets closed all the way in front and bodices were open, quite the opposite of what we’re used to today! Well, the bodices weren’t open open. 17th century bodices would be closed with a stomacher that pinned in place, a practice that continued through the 18th century. This bodice would have been worn with a decorated stomacher, wide lace cuffs, and a ruff or collar. It has pinked edges inside the punched slashes. Stays may be worn under the bodice, but they were not tight or conical like the stays of the Renaissance or Rococo eras. Stays in the 17th century were shorter and less restricting, emphasizing the full, rounded female form so admired at the time.

Petticoat Panel, circa 1600

Multiple petticoats were the daily norm. Today, petticoat has come to mean an undergarment, usually Victorian, but petticoats were worn like skirts in the 17th century. A poor woman might wear only one or two petticoats, while a wealthy woman would wear many more! This decorative panel would have been sewn onto the topmost petticoat which would have shown through the split front of the dress.

Apron, circa 1580-1600

Aprons are a necessity for any lady of the 17th century. Everyone from bakers wives to courtiers wore them, though the rich wore them only around the house. Aprons were ankle-to-floor length and were usually made of linen. Decorated aprons like this one were not meant to be used for protective reasons. They were a wonderful opportunity to add pizzazz to an otherwise plain outfit and showed off the fine sewing skills of the ladies that wore them. This example in the V&A is decorated with cutwork (a.k.a. holes), so you can tell that it was meant as a showpiece, not a work piece!

Spanish Chopines, circa 1580-1620

Mules, circa 1600-1625

Chopines had become overwhelmingly gaudy by the end of the 16th century, but this Spanish pair recalls how the chopine began: as a way to elevate ladies’ skirts above the filthy streets. They are not shoes themselves, usually, but are overshoes for delicate slippers and mules. While I’d love to have some crazy-tall, fancy chopines, this simple green pair is my favorite pair.

Shoes in the 17th century saw the development of the heel instead of the traditional platform, but until 1620 or so, mules and chopines shared equal footing in the fashion world. After 1630, however, heels rapidly grew in popularity and height. Mules with wooden soles were standard house shoes for all classes.

Walking Shoe, circa 1640

This everyday walking shoe is made of leather and is much sturdier than its silk counterparts. A middle class woman would have worn these whenever she went out of the house. Shoes were prized and often passed down through generations until they fell to bits. It’s unbelievable how well preserved this shoe is! Most became horribly cracked and misshapen over the years, if they survived at all.

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Coif, circa 1610

During the first half of the 17th century, ladies still wore coifs to cover their hair. This coif is the creme de la creme of coifs! It’s bursting with silver and gilt threads that would have glittered brilliantly when they were new! Be sure to click the picture to check out the museum page. There, you can zoom in and see just how heavily embroidered this masterpiece is! It’s splashed with shimmering spangles (sequins) as well, even on the handmade silver lace. The matching forehead cloth would have covered the front of a lady’s hair if the coif did not extend as far as she needed, for example, under a hat with a thin brim.

Felt Hat, circa 1600-1625

I’m going to end this tour with this hat. Why? Because…well…look at it! Is it not the most amazing hat you you have ever seen?! I have seen hundreds upon thousands of illustrations of these steeple-crowned hats but never knew there was a real one still floating around! Hats like this were popular for everybody– rich, poor, Puritan, Royalist, man, or woman. When it comes down to it, anyone in Britain might have worn this. Maybe a gentleman walking the streets of London, or a lady out for a stroll in the country, or an old woman who scolds everyone for being frivolous but secretly adores sweetmeats….anybody!

The world the the 17th century woman is a mystery to many people, even avid historians and costumers. The 1600s really are a skipped-over era in history even though so many wonderful, terrifying, and history-making things happened. We are extremely lucky that there are still pieces left from that time!

As with all my articles, all of the images in this article are either linked to larger versions, articles explaining them, or other fact-filled sites to help you explore, so please feel free to check them out!

From Conventions to Curators: Historical Gothic Victorian Fashion

A.K.A. My Museum Shopping List!

Gothic Victorian (sometimes called neo-Victorian) is a modern fashion movement that reinterprets certain aspects and fashion facets of Victorian culture, putting a twist on the old style. Seeing beautiful fashions revived in new ways makes me excited, both as a historian and as an avid fan of dressing up! I am, however, terribly picky and pragmatic and if I’m going to invest in a dress, I want to be able to wear it as much as possible: museum-wise and convention-wise.

In my years of costume research, I’ve discovered that there are plenty of extant, real Victorian gowns that would work just as beautifully in a Victorian parlor as they would in Dracula’s castle!

Gothic Victorian

Gothic Victorian,a sub-genre of goth or gothic style, flirts with the darker side of life. It dwells on tragic romance, the mysteries of the human mind, and the fantasy world of nightmares. The most mainstream examples can be found in Edgar Allen Poe’s tales, almost everything Tim Burton has created over the years, and the unique poetry of Emily Dickinson. Everything may seem black, grey, and red all over, but Gothic Victorian embraces the beauty of the sad and the fun of antique fetishes. It takes inspiration from the Victorian period, but doesn’t adhere very strictly to it, mixing in modern necklines with puffed crinoline skirts. Not all Gothic Vicotiran fashion is dark. Clothing is sometimes white, pink, or soft blue to display a ghostly or innocent soul. Gothic Victorian lets you explore the two sides of you personality you usually have to hide– your romantic side and your wicked side– all while looking amazing!

The hallmarks of Gothic Victorian fashion are:

Favorite time period: 1850 onwards (and some medieval, renaissance, and baroque influences)
Bustles, hobbles, and full skirts
Corsets and cinchers
Trench coats, boleros, and military jackets
Parasols
Hats, especially top hats (often tiny)
Tall boots and high heels
Bones, roses, spiders, crystals, and blood
Stripes and plaid
Parasols, gauntlets, and gloves
Curiosities and mementos mori
Heavy ornamentation and layers
Often used colors include black, red, and jewel tones
Often used materials include satin, beads, velvet, and lace

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Period Fashions and Accessories with Gothic Style

American Silk Dress, circa 1870

Dinner Dress, circa 1880

Parasol with Ivory Handle, circa 1870

Day Dress, circa 1885

Gold Brooch, circa 1890

Evening Dress, circa 1885

American Silk Dress, circa 1879

Fetish Boots, circa 1900

Silk Dress, circa 1869

Mme. Uoll Gross Ensemble, circa 1885

Evening Hat, circa 1888

Evening Dress, circa 1881

Ball Gown, circa 1875

Gothic Victorianism is known for it’s fascination with love and death. Victorians had symbols for nearly everything, including snakes for eternal love and anchors for loyalty and hope. They also had elaborate mourning procedures that involved symbolic items such as veils and mourning jewelry. Sentimental and mourning jewelry hold a special place in my heart. Pieces are often made from human hair woven into brooches, necklaces, bracelets and more. The tradition of weaving hair into jewelry began in the 17th century with Stuart Crystals and grew throughout the 18th and 19th centuries until the Edwardian era. Mementos mori (“Remember your mortality”) have been around since ancient times, but became especially popular during the 15th century. Gothic Victorians still employ updated versions of mementos mori, including skulls, angels, crosses, and relics.

Mementos Mori and Sentimental Jewelry

Rosary Bead, circa 16th or 19th century

Stuart Crystal Ring, circa 1728

Hair brooch, circa 1842

Jet Necklace, circa 1875

Hair Comb, circa 1851

Stuart Crystal Ring, circa 1686

Stock/Stick Pin, early 19th century
(this pin is rumored to have belonged to Napoleon I)

Bracelet, circa 1886

Snake bracelet, circa 1870

Mourning Ring, circa 1661

The “gothic” part of Gothic Victorian refers to it’s use of what I like to call the “harmonious grotesque.” There’s always something a little unsettling about gothic fashion, but that little twinge of dystopic strangeness really enhances the allure! I love Gothic Victorian style, especially how dark, yet appealing it is. It’s perfect for those of us who love being romantic, but can’t stand being saccharine. It’s bittersweet and beautiful!

Bonus:

AWESOME CORSET!

Corset, circa 1890

Sexy, hot-pink satin corset…and it’s historical! :)