Not Yo Average Field Trip: 1848-51

One of the biggest take-aways from Costume College 2016 was how many of the most knowledgeable people there spoke specifically of dresses that they had seen in person. They spoke of what they had seen at the such-and-such museum, and how they had seen the so-and-so technique used inside a garment they had handled.

My first thought: how do I get my hands on original garments, so I too can speak from first-hand experience? Whatever knowledge I possess has been through the internet, and construction is something I've been interested in. Finding pictures of the inside of a garment is tricky, and even misleading. So I did a little research, and discovered that my local museum actually has a huge collection, just not on display. In fact, it's not really even catalogued anywhere that you can access.

After coming home from Costume College, I knew that spending time at the museum was something I wanted to do, but you can't just waltz in and grab an antique garment off a rack at the museum. You have to send in a physical paper form requesting permission, and they have to actually vote to give you access. 

I brought my camera, a measuring tape (actually a few) and a notebook and pen. I was worried there would be more that I needed and couldn't think of, but nothing came up.

There are four dresses altogether; they were c. 1847-52, c. 1855-59, c. 1862-65, and c. 1866-68.

The first dress (c. 1847-52) is a shot silk, blue and brown. It has a full front with very controlled pleating that fans up to the shoulder; it's lined with a fitted lining, of which I can't remember what it was. The buttons up the front aren't functional, but the edges on the front are barely sewn together, almost like someone wanted a front opening dress, then changed their mind. It hooks up at the back of the bodice.

This picture is showing the pleating, as shown from the backside.

The waist is very dropped (maybe 2'' below natural waist on the side) and the length of the skirt doesn't quite seem proportionate. It's possible it was shortened for something theatrical, especially when you see a picture of it on a person without any proper undergarments.

*Forehead smack*

Although you can see how the length is *now* proportionate. The back story to this picture is this dress was allegedly was worn as a wedding dress in the 1860's by this woman's great great great grandmother, or something or that sort. It's plausible to me that this could have been a wedding dress, but certainly not in the 1860's. I've heard some researchers say that family stories are the hardest ones to believe, because stories and dates can easily be twisted through the years. Especially if the story skipped a generation. Something like this:

Gen. #1: This dress belonged to my grandmother. She was married in 1848.
Gen. #3: This dress belonged to my grandmother; I can't remember the date she was married, it might have been in the 1860's.
Gen. #5: This dress belonged to my grandmother, who was married in the 1860's and because it's been in the family for so long it must have some importance. Therefore I assume this must have been her wedding dress.
The other reason family heirlooms are tough is because if the garment was donated to the museum, the museum is obligated to include any information they provide, even if incorrect. And telling someone that they are wrong about a family heirloom is also a sticky spot, so shutting up and just putting a really broad date range like Nineteenth century appeases everyone.

The sleeves are open, meant to be worn with undersleeves (supposedly these ones); the silk on the underpart of the sleeve doesn't actually reach the armscye, but a patch of cotton is sewn and the sleeve cap covers it. The strips sewn onto the edge of the sleeve and cap are of blue silk velvet.

I like how the above picture shows the exact blue in the fabric in the upper right, by the pleats.

Upper portion of the sleeve.

The skirt is bag-lined with a really small turned hem and a braid running around the edge. It's now occurring to me that this dress might have had, at one point, a flounce of some sort running around the bottom that would have lengthened it considerably, but I don't remember there being any evidence of anything being removed. Then again, I didn't spend a lot of time on the skirt.

Now for the research: in order to date this dress, I'm looking at a few key things that stand out to me:

-The open 3/4 length sleeves, and the cap on top.
-The dropped waist
-The pleated front
-The shot silk (normally color doesn't come into account at all, but shot silk was just enough of a fad in the 1840's that I'm using that)

First the sleeves. I found evidence of open sleeves just barely coming in in 1846, but they were just short of full length and not open at all. You might describe them as a "funnel sleeve"; just looking at at original, it might be easy to say something like, "this lady must have had slightly short arms". I couldn't find any fashion plates until 1848 that looked even close to the shape I was looking for, but 1849 and 1850 were much closer.

1848 Godeys Fashion Plate; this sleeve is considerably longer and less open.

1848 Les Modes Parisiennes. The dress on the left has open sleeves with undersleeves, while the dress on the right has closed, straight sleeves, so sort of a cross-over going on. All fashion plates prior to 1847 with open sleeves are barely open, so rather unlikely.

This 1848 fashion plate is much more open that the last plate, so obviously there is a range of what could have been worn. 

1849 Godeys Fashion plate. The shape is much closer to this dress than any other open sleeves from previous years. 

1850 Le Follet

There comes a point, when dating garments, that the date it was probably made and the years it could have been worn are a bit of a gray area. To me, the overall flavor and attitude of the dress match 1847-49, but the style of dress technically isn't out of fashion until around 1851. Even though there is a fair amount of guesswork when dating garments, taking into account how specific the dress is can give you a good idea of how broad of a range it might have been worn.  For example: I'm making a dress, and I want it to be conservative so it doesn't fall out of fashion too quickly. I would be more likely to choose a conservative color, and made it in a style that was less specific. If I want a dress that is more fashionable, I'll make it as current as possible with the intention of only wearing it a couple years. This dress has enough key points that show that it was definitely fashionable, and therefore would have been discarded and replaced with something current, so erring on the side of cutting off the end of the year range is not out of the question.

Now I noticed that most of the dresses that had open sleeves between 1847-1850 did NOT have caps on the top, but decorative caps did seem to be commonplace on straight sleeves. At first I thought this might have been more of a personal preference thing, but after looking at a number of extants I saw many different types of caps encompassing many different sleeve styles.

This dress is almost identical in design, except with gathers instead of pleats and a round waist instead of pointed. From August Auctions

c. 1845-50, from The Metropolitan Museum of Art

An earlier example; these are a good example of the earlier open sleeve, which show up on occasion between 1844-47 before becoming more commonplace. c. 1844, Museum at FIT

As for the pleating down the front, those are sometimes difficult to spot in fashion plates, although different variations of controlled shirring, pleating, and even creative methods like a honeycomb pattern were used very often.

1849, Ladies Cabinet

1851 Le Moniteur de la Mode

As to color, it is difficult to say exactly when shot silk went out of fashion. For those of you that don't know, shot (or changeable, I can't discern if shot and changeable are different) silk is a silk that has a different color warp from the weft. It was very common to have two violently opposing colors, which leaves the overall effect rather muddy, but iridescent from certain angles.

I search every Godeys magazine within this narrowed search range for "shot silk". In reference to dresses, it was mentioned quite a lot in descriptions and in the general fashion column until abruptly in 1852, it is declared quite out of fashion.

Here is an excerpt from a humorous story called "Sketches from Real Life" published in the 1847 Godeys. In it, the main character and a Mrs. Dawkins are discussing how Mrs. Dawkins' son (called Jeemes) is in love with the main character's cousin Judy (called Nabby) and discussing what she should wear in order to appear to her advantage.

"But here comes Nabby with her changeable silk on. It's my mind for her to wear that. It's one her Grandmarm Dawkins gave her. I took a mighty fancy to it the first time I ever see the old lady wear it. Jest examine it; you'll parcieve that the warp is a bright yaller; e'en jest an orange color-and that the fillin' is a dark blue. Now, if I could have my choice, I would ruther by one half have it than Mrs. Feeswind's tarnaltane."
"I like the stuff the ground's made on well enough," said Nabby, "but I don't like the set on't. Do you Hepsey?"
"The waist is not quite long enough for the fashion," said I.
"That's nothin'," said Mrs. Dawkins, "Nabby never looked well in a long waist and never will."

In October of 1851 Godeys, it describes a dress "One of the most elegant dresses we have seen is a Jasper silk (shot with seven different colors, but so blended that they seem one soft shade of violet)..."

While in 1852 Godeys, it says this:

"Some of the plainer, or less expensive fall silks are in graduated stripes, shot or changeable fabrics being entirely out of vogue."

Which brings me to my last dating point - dropped waists. Thus far, we've already heard in 1847 that dropped waists were fashionable from the story. In 1850, we hear ".....made with full skirts, sleeves gathered at the wrists, and infants (gathered) waists, corded with silk, and gathered full with a straight belt. No point whatever......the waist cannot be too long from the arm to the belt, but the length is not increased at the bodice." However, there are plenty of fashion plates that refute the idea that round waists were universal. Looking at fashion plates is completely misleading, and the exact intention of waist placement is hard to tell, partially because magazine figures weren't even close to accurately proportioned to begin with. So I'm going to turn to another textual (exact date known) source: paintings (you may need to zoom into the painting to see what I'm talking about).

Katherine Mary Webb Palmer, 1846

Another 1846 dress, with a decidedly natural waist. Dona Marie-Louise Ferdinand de Bourbon, by Franz-Xavier Winterhalter, 1846.

While the point on this one is extreme, the waist is also at a natural placement. Queen Isabella II of Spain, by Federico de Madrazo, 1849

From what I'm gathering....personal preference was everything. A lot of overlapping dates on when waists were dropped, and in different contexts. And then I realize....I don't remember the exact provenance of this dress. Where it came from, etc. All the people that could afford an expensive portrait were in Europe. We have a couple expensive Winterhalter paintings of Spanish and Austrian royalty, and that hardly seems relevant.

So hitting a brick wall on the dropped waist, but the overall idea that I'm getting is that long-waisted dresses were a decidedly 1840's idea, so I'm still sticking with my 1848-49 original creating date.

Another interesting tidbit that I discovered in a copy of the 1850 Godeys Magazine, June, in the advice and questions column towards the back. Here is what it says:

"Some excellent friend lady friend has asked of us the meaning of a term prefixed to our fashion plates, and, as the request is a fair one, we shall take pleasure in defining the precise definition of Americanized as applied in the modes which we give.
In the first place, American ladies have not yet given up waists of a respectable and natural size, a part of the figure the French artistes des modes sometimes omit altogether, if we accept a faint shadowy line connecting the bust and skirt. Again, our ladies like a little more drapery than the Parisians consider in good taste, and it is therefore necessary to add sleeves and corsages to some of the costumes that are otherwise graceful and pretty. These are two of the principal items; and, as we have matters of more general interest to discuss, we leave the subject for the present to our friend's kindly consideration."

A Little Bit About Visual Perception

There are plenty of thoughts on corsets; everyone is, I suppose, entitled to their own opinions, but fact should rule over fiction, and not much truth about the matter is used.

The truth about corsets...wait, let me rephrase that...the truth about fashion in the past is visual perception. Corsets were not only part of life, but the way they work is not often thought of much. When lacing a corset, it pulls evenly. This means that corset actually pull you into a round shape. Everyone knows that, normally, the waist is sort of oval shaped, making you flat in the front and very small from the side. When pulled into a round shape, it makes you small in the front, but from the side it may make you appear larger. Sadly, I have no diagrams to describe how this works, but you get the idea.

It should be acknowledged by everyone that people were healthier and naturally smaller back then. I'm not going to say that everyone was skinny, because that is most certainly not true. Corsets are part of what make you appear smaller.

The clothes worn on top also play a huge part as to how we percieve them. Take this picture for example. I love this picture, because it throws people way off all the time on Pinterest. 

To use the visual perception example: she wears large skirts, which makes the waist they sit on look very small. Large sleeves also contribute. But the trim is key: notice how the trim on the front makes her look wide at the shoulders, then tapers down into a tiny point. This draws attention to that point, thus creating a 'wow, look at that waist!' moment. In reality, you can see her waist is not actually a part of that point, but the trim makes it look so.

Another fact about corsets: you cannot eat very much while wearing one. Your stomach simply doesn't have space for 'extra', so you basically can only eat the amount that your body needs. I've had it happen; I'll try to eat the amount that I normally do while wearing a corset, and major stomach aches quickly ensue. That is basically the best diet in the world!

Now, this girl, I would say, is sort of 'normal' sized, or appears so because the trim does not 'point' as well as the last one, although in our standards, she is fairly small.

Now, this image  (the one below) has quite a few theories, mainly why she is photographed from the back. I can't think of a reason why not to, with such a beautiful dress and hair. Several suggestions were in mourning, or post-mortem. After the post-mortem theory, one lady commented suggesting that maybe she died of 'small waist syndrome, or lack of oxygen'. I got a laugh, although computers do not convey the tone in which the original is speaking. This lady is also very small compared to modern standards, but I wouldn't say unusually so. Her skirts, very full worn over a hoop, lend the slendering effect I've already mentioned.

Buying Cotton Prints from Chain Fabric Stores

When I started looking at fabric for very, very first period-correct dress (well, mostly correct), I was told a ton of do's and don'ts for buying prints. I had no idea what to look for, and kept liking fabrics that apparently weren't good enough.
I am in no way an expert, but have trained my eye to be able to skim over all the fabrics at Joanns and have an idea of what may or may not be acceptable. None of these are hard and fast rules, but are fairly basic guidelines as to what to look for. I pretty much only do 1860's at this point, so these rules probably won't apply to anything going into the 1870's or later.

Look for strong contrast in printed fabric. In general, go with something that has two very different colors, suhc as orange with blue or red with yellow. Light pink with another medium pink print is probably not a strong enough contrast, although light pink with dark might be okay. The brown one below might have been okay, except that there is hardly any contrast.

Repetitive prints are the very first thing I look for. That is how I can skim so quickly and determine what may or may not be okay. The red one below is not even enough, it looks random. The blue one is actually very good, although I've seen it in person and the dots are a little metallic.

No solid colors for cotton! White is fine, but solid dye in cotton wasn't stable, and would show fading very fast. Chain fabric stores sell fabric that looks pre-faded, so don't use those either. Some dingy colors (like gray-blue) are also not appropriate.

Avoid tonal or teeny-tiny prints, which eliminates just about every single one at Joanns. If it appears solid when you stand back, the print is too small. Anything that is just one continuous solid mass doesn't work with the way fabric was printed back then.

Don't use anything with a black background. Black shows fading very fast, even with print on top. This is one I'm not sure about, but was told.

Be aware of any prints behind the prints, if that makes any sense. There are many wonderful reproduction fabrics that have a print on top of another that is historically accurate, but be aware that you may need to do some research if buying from a chain fabric store.

While floral prints are really pretty, it is veeeerrry hard to find any that are plausible at all. In the 1860's, any flowers were more geometric than realistic, which simply isn't done any more. Realistic is favorited currently, so that is what sells. The one below is a reproduction fabric.

Here is the absolute best place to buy period prints, even if it is expensive: http://www.reproductionfabrics.com/

When shopping online and it gives manufacturer options to limit it down, look for Judie Rothermel and/or Marcus Brothers. Marcus Brothers sells most of their fabric as 'reproduction', but only some of it seems plausible. It is a good place to start, and they do have a few good ones.

Some of the ones that fit all the criteria may not fit your taste criteria. The strong contrast and weird geometric prints sometimes don't match up with our modern color palate, but honestly I've just learned to deal with it and buy the fabric anyway. Wash dresses are supposed to be grubby, get-the-housecleaning-done dresses, and to me it doens't matter all that much if the fabric isn't perfect.

My favorite compromise: go with plaid. It's easier to find a plaid at your local fabric shop that both meets historical accuracy and your favorite colors. WARNING: the homespun plaid Joanns sells can be used, but is of a very cheap quality. Don't pay more than 3-4 dollars a yard, and remember that coupons are your friend. Joanns also takes as many competitor coupons as the amount of items you're purchasing.

Cotton Thread vs. Polyester Thread: What Is the Difference?

When sewing your own historical wardrobe, something I recently learned about is it is important to sew with a natural fiber thread. Why is this? Why can't I just buy the Dual Duty that comes in the right color, instead of cotton thread which probably won't match because the color options aren't so good?

Compare the actual threads. When using the polyester thread, it seems fairly strong. If you try to break the thread, it will probably hold pretty well. I've found that if you try and cut it with your teeth, it isn't a clean break, leaving a little wisp of thread sticking out that makes threading the needle even harder.

When using cotton thread, it also seems strong enough. It might have a higher chance of breaking if you pull it, and when you cut it with your teeth, it is always a clean break. So, why would I want to sew with a thread that has a higher chance of breaking?

I have heard that polyester thread, when paired with cotton cloth, won't hold up very well. But in the long run, I think the main reason is this: if the most historically accurate way to attach skirts to a waistband is by a whipstitch with this thread, then what would happen if you stepped on the skirt by accident? If you used cotton thread, it might hold, or the thread might break. I have personally had this happen to me. It was awful; for that event, I had to put a million safety pins in, and when I got home I had to regauge that section and reattach it to the waistband.

But what if it had been polyester thread? It might have held, the thread might have broken, but another option that using cotton thread ensures won't happen is your fabric might tear. Polyester thread is so strong it might tear your fabric, and ruin the whole dress! There wouldn't be any way to salvage it if it tore along that upper folded edge.

When looking for thread to match your dress, I have heard that using white when there isn't a better color is the best option. Anything neutral, and it would probably blend in with your dress anyway. I've had better luck at Hancock's than Joann's for color choice. Look for Guterman brand; I think that is the only brand chain stores sell.

Here is an interesting post about thread quality, viewed under a microscope.

What Is a CDV?

As I have been doing more research, I have been hearing the term 'CDV' a lot. I was reading an article to Mom when she voiced the question, "What is a CDV?" I didn't know.
So I looked it up. It is an abbreviation for carte de visite, which is a kind of picture that was patented by some Frenchman.
CDV's were the method the actual printing of the photo; each photo was very small, but most are incredibly clear. I know the one of the little girl's is rather blurry, but it was too cute not to post!

English Women's Clothing in the Nineteenth Century, by C. Willet Cunnington

This book is by far my absolute favorite for historical research; really interesting to read, including insight as to the mentality of the women in each decade throughout the 1800's.
Very detailed in everything; undergarments, hairstyles, fashion plates, popular colors, even popular trim in each section of the Victorian era. I love exactly how detailed it is about everything; it gives descriptions of different kinds of dresses, year by year, with a larger explanation every ten years to give a broader view.
The fashion plates are my favorite; I could look through this book all day! I really would love to own it sometime.

Comparing Sewing Techniques, Then and Now

One of the first things that I learned when making my wash dress was how many differences there were in the clothing, things that you would never think of.

When making historical clothing, it is important to remember that they didn't have all the tools that we have today. Also, something that isn't as important now as it was to them was that small waist appearance. This was a huge one for them; to help with this appearance, they made up several different nifty tricks in changing where the seams were.

Dropped shoulders were a characteristic of historical clothing. As you can see in the picture below, my seam is pretty low (please ignore that ugly crease). Plus I just learned that sloping shoulders was a thing back then....this definitely would have helped.

Another was the shoulder seam. No, not the dropped shoulders; this is the seam that connects the front to the back. Instead of being perfectly straight and sitting right on your shoulder, like your t shirt now, they were actually more in the back, sloping downwards. I think this was to also help with the narrow shoulder theory. It's kind of hard to see in this picture, but this is a good example.

One thing I did not know and is actually really helpful is the underarm sleeve seam. Maybe you are supposed to do this on any other garment, I don't know, but what they did was they did not line up the underarm seam with the side seam. Instead they made the underarm seam on the sleeve come more forward; even though those sleeves appear really full, the shortest point is the under seam. So by lining up that under seam, they gave themselves the most room. When I made my dress, I definitely discovered this to be true; when I didn't use this method, I couldn't stretch my arm out all the way! I don't think I have any pictures of this one.

This is one of my favorites: to make their waist appear smaller (and just because it is awesome!) they made the back in several different pieces. My friend says it is called a 'fiddle back'. That is the curved back seam, which I am using on my ball dress! I think they totally look cool, and because of the construction it does make the waist appear smaller. And yes, this is the back of a dress. Not all dresses had them (my wash dress doesn't), but most of the higher fashion ones seemed to.

So there you have it. I'm sure there are some that I am missing, but those were the ones off the top of my head.

Breaking Some Rules

Every March, a local Civil War era ball is held. Last year, I took an old pioneer costume I had made years ago and attached a new bodice to it. There were some problems with that though. The skirt was, like I said, old. The cloth for the bodice was new. The skirt was very faded, the print was terribly un-accurate. And I felt like I stuck out like a sore thumb in a faded, rather shabby, calico cotton dress.

So this year I knew I had to make a dress. I started looking into different patterns and knew immediately what I wanted. I started asking some questions from the historical sewing page on Facebook that I am a part of. 

The first thing they said was "Don't make a ball dress! You are way too young; go with a nice party dress." But I didn't want a party dress. I wanted a ball dress.

They were correct; if I lived in the 1860's, I would be too young. I wouldn't even be allowed to go to a ball; balls were for meeting other young people and flirting and finding husbands.
So the first rule I broke was that I did make a ball dress, even if it wasn't technically the right thing to do.

Mom pointed out that, "Well, it isn't the 1860's, and you are going to a ball. Therefore, you need a ball dress." I realized she was definitely right; I was going to a ball, so I would need a ball dress.

The second rule I broke that I did intentionally (Eekk!) was I did not make it out of pure silk. The only 100% silk that they sell at Joanns is silk dupioni. It is very pretty, but it is like $25 a yard, and lightweight dupioni is $10. I did look into some silk taffeta online, where you can get it at $10 bucks a yard, but it comes from Thailand and shipping would probably be outrageous. 

For what I wanted, this was way out of my price range. So to Joanns I went, and picked out a pretty polyester satin. And no, there was no polyester in the 1860's. I know, I know, all you reenactors are probably gasping. I wish I could afford a real silk dress, but alas, I cannot.

The thing is, you really have to decide what to do accurately and what to cheat on. For this ball in particular, it is pretty casual on following the Civil War rule. So I went with cheating. Besides, I don't plan on wearing this dress outside of this ball, which is held once a year. If I were going to a more strict Civil War ball, then I might try harder to make it more accurate, and if I had a chance to wear it more often, I might be able to justify the cost.