1907 Edwardian House Dress

Posted on July 9, 2020July 9, 2020 by Kay Demlow

One of the best ways to learn about “what they wore” is to study a garment from the era. I am fortunate to own an antique cotton house dress, circa 1907 – 1909, judging by the style details. It’s a simple garment, with only a bit of trim on the yoke and collar. It has the silhouette of the era, with a flounce at the bottom and gathered sleeves.

Looking at the House Dress

The yoke is shaped in a “western” style. If you think about it, this dress pre-dates “western” movies and cowboy singers. This shape was a variation on the clothing of the 1890s through 1910s. It was only in the decades after that it became a symbol of the American cowboys.

The lining is made of a thin, open-weave type of cotton. If you look inside, you can see that it’s a mixture of machine stitching and hand sewing. The darts are sewn by hand! And the area at the center front, at the button closure, plus the short plackets at the sleeve cuffs, are stitched by machine. The trim is sewn by machine, as well.

The original dress was made for someone much shorter and smaller than I am, probably about 4’10” tall. I noticed that the original owner found it was too long in front; she took an internal tuck just above the flounce to shorten it.

It’s quite possible that this dress was made for maternity wear. That tuck above the flounce and those hand stitched darts could have been added after the pregnancy, so the new mother could continue to wear the dress.

To make a copy for myself, I started with my own personal sloper for the bodice lining and a sleeve pattern from a 1907 blouse waist that I liked. I was able to draft the front and back by copying the angles and pleats of the original, but with my own measurements for skirt length and back waist. (I tend to be much longer in the waist than most patterns, so this is always an important measurement for me.)

The original bodice lining was attached in a different way than other garments I have seen: the lining pieces were sewn to the fashion fabrics so that the raw edges were enclosed. And yet, the lower edge of the lining was completely unfinished! More than 100 years after it was first worn, the lining is still holding up well.

Making the House Dress

This was a fairly straightforward project. I used my personal sloper that I had already tested as the lining pattern. I drafted the yoke pattern freehand, based on the angles and proportions of the original. I allowed for pleats at center front and center back, just as the original seamstress had done. You’ll notice that I stitched the front of the dress to the lining before applying the yoke.

The original dress collar was made in two sections, with a seam at the center back. This apparently accommodated the unusual method of assembling it, with both lining sections sewn together over the back seam to cover the raw edges. I decided to adapt the pattern to my own sewing style, so the back seam is pressed open and the top collar piece is cut on the fold.

The original dress had a self-fabric facing sewn down along the front edge of the lining to carry the buttons and buttonholes. I copied this detail, which gives the dress a smooth fit over my undergarments and prevents the white lining from peeking out. The outer layer is pleated into the yoke at center front, with a row of buttons. I copied these buttons, too.

The antique garment had several buttons at the lining closure, somewhat randomly spaced. I chose instead to space my buttons evenly. Here’s a helpful hint for positioning five buttons, evenly spaced, without using a measuring tape.

First, locate the positions of the top and bottom buttonholes. Mark these with pins, perpendicular to the edge.

Fold the edge in half, pinching a crease at the center point. Place a pin at the crease to mark this position. Finally, fold each of the other halves to find those centers, creasing and marking. Now all your buttonholes are evenly spaced!

The sleeve pattern I used was from a design that I had already made and knew that I liked. The style is sometimes called a “bishop” sleeve: a full sleeve is gathered into a fitted cuff at the wrist. The original had a narrower bishop sleeve, while my copy had more fullness at the top.

Wearing the House Dress

This is a basic dress (sometimes called a wrapper or a “Mother Hubbard”) that a middle-class woman might have worn at home in the morning. I finished sewing on the last of the buttons at about 9:00 AM, and I wanted to wear it right away! I put it on over my basic Edwardian underpinnings: corset, petticoat, drawers. Under the corset I wore a modern white cotton tee shirt instead of my pretty white cotton chemise. (I was avoiding the work of laundering and ironing it.)

The house dress was comfortable! I wore it the rest of the morning in my studio, and then through lunch and into the afternoon. It was perfect for a break on the porch swing with a ladies’ magazine (a “Modern Priscilla” from 1909). I finally changed out of it at about 4:00 PM.

If it had been 1907, I might have put on something a bit nicer at noon to serve and eat dinner. Or, I might have changed into a street costume after dinner to go out and run errands or visit friends. As it was, I had a quiet day at home, and stayed comfortable all day long.

A Regency Picnic

Posted on May 23, 2015 by Kay Demlow

We were dressed for a day in the country… in 1810!

One reason that I first became involved in making replica clothing was so that I could help create the romance and beauty of the past for people living today. Sometimes it all comes together in a perfect afternoon!

The food we brought traveled well: pickled vegetables, small meat pies, fresh cherries, and cool water.

It was a perfect day to be outdoors! I understand that our climate in the Pacific Northwest is similar to that of England. I like to imagine that Jane Austen’s contemporaries might have enjoyed a similar day wearing similar fashions.

: After lunch, we took a turn about the garden.

: We were joined by a sweet young lady.

: The garden was resplendent in its summer colors!

: A truly magical scene…

: Eventually a girl will not want to pose any longer!

: Then it’s time to be silly.

: The ladies reunite.

There was more to this day than just our picnic! The event was coordinated by the Oregon Regency Society; our friends and companions were equally equipped for an afternoon of pleasure.

: A small friend

: A fine gentleman

: Dining in grand style

: Our most gracious leader!

: Lively conversation

This picnic has become an annual tradition. We have come to expect a game of graces!

: Good catch!

: Ready…

All of the dresses, bonnets and underpinnings for our little group of ladies were made by Lavender’s Green Historic Clothing. But it takes more than just the clothing to create a day like this. We were fortunate to be able to gather on the grounds of the lovely Pittock Mansion in Portland, Oregon. The Oregon Regency Society has members who, like us, appreciate the quality and style of authentic clothing, food, and manners. And of course, an Oregon summer afternoon gave us fresh air and balmy temperatures for our Regency picnic.

Recreating a Paris Gown, Part Three: The New Gown

Posted on January 16, 2015 by Kay Demlow

As a historical dressmaker, I love a challenge! So, it was with great interest that I began creating a new evening gown for my client based on the key elements of her Paris original. I began with the bodice lining. I used a fine white silk, similar to the original lining fabric. The seam lines were copied from the original, but using the client’s measurements for the new gown. Like the dressmakers and modistes of 100 years ago, I used boning in the seams and at the center front to keep the dress from shifting or rolling up while it’s being worn.

Once I knew that the lining would fit correctly, it was time apply the next layer: the underskirt. I used white silk here, as well, since the original gown had a silk underskirt. The shape of the skirt followed the 1912 lines: smooth over the front, with the extra fullness pleated into the center back.

The underskirt was sewn to the lining by hand, just as we found in the original. This gives the sewist more control over placement, a flatter seam, and a safe way to sew past the metal boning, which was already in place in those seam lines.

The next step was to drape the bodice sections. We had chosen silk charmeuse in a glorious coral color, similar to the 1912 fabric, but without the soft crinkled texture. Given our time and budget constraints, we had also decided not to copy the hand embroidered sections on the bodice. We created a draped bodice with the kimono sleeves, but without the gusset detail or embroidery.

The original skirt had been made in sections; so was ours. This section would have the embroidered antique bands attached along the curved edges.

Like the original, this skirt layer was open in the back. The overskirt drape would cover the selvedge edges.

The draped section had to be exactly long enough to carry the antique bands. In addition, it needed to gracefully span the gap between the center back and center front openings. I experimented with the placement to find the “just right” proportions.

The original underskirt facing was long gone, possibly removed by a previous owner for an art or home decorating project. Rather than try to recreate it, we chose to cover the underskirt section with matching silk charmeuse. This would also be sewn in place by hand.

Now we had the basic gown made up in new fabric. It was time to incorporate the antique sections that we had been able to save.

I had sewn the embroidered bands onto the main skirt by hand before pinning it to the form. I gained a deep appreciation for the detailed artistic embroidery that those long-ago modistes had done!

The overskirt drapery was mounted to the lining slightly above the natural waist. The sash would cover the last of the lining and all the hand stitched sections.

Here I have recreated the draping of the original skirt layers. The top layer would be tacked in strategic areas as the original was, but for the most part, the draped skirt stays in place because of its weight and the clever design.

It is rare to be able to examine a Paris designer gown like this one; it is even more unusual to be asked to take it apart! Normally, I would prefer to keep the entire original intact for future study. In this case, though, with the original starting to break apart and some of it already removed, it had already lost much of its value as an antique. I am glad that I was able to document its deconstruction and the reconstruction, and that I could share it with you.

Recreating a Paris Gown, Part Two: deconstructing an antique Paris gown

Posted on April 23, 2014December 15, 2014 by Kay Demlow

Paris was an exciting place for the fashion industry at the beginning of the century. The House of Worth in the late 19^th century had created an image of luxury, style and exquisite needlework for wealthy customers not just from France, but from the Continent, England and the United States. The industry included not just employees, but contract seamstresses, embroiders, and finishers in little ateliers throughout the fashion district. Some of these capable women went on to create their own reputations and their own clientele.

Inside the bodice is a customized stay tape at the waist.

Inside the gown that I was to reconstruct was this label, which led me to discover one of these innovative fashion houses: Callot Soeurs. You can find out more about them at these links:

http://www.fashionintime.org/callot-sisters-history-fashion/

http://www.victoriana.com/GazetteduBonTon/designerdresses.html

Here is an image of another of Callot Soeurs gown. (Source unknown)

Photo of embroiderers from Les Creatuers des Mode, 1910; I do not know if these women were working on gowns for the Callot sisters, but it is possible! Many of these ateliers were on the upper floors of buildings so that they could take advantage of natural daylight from the skylights overhead.

Beautiful embroidery, damaged fabric

The Callot sisters were known for the use of gold and silver lame and poly-colored embroideries… On this antique bodice the metallic threads have torn the silk fabric. But the wealthy patrons never expected the gowns to last 100 years, so it didn’t matter to them that the metallic threads might damage the silk. These gowns were expected to be ephemeral things, worn only once or twice in the presence of a circle of friends, then packed away, possibly to be brought out again on a voyage or at a resort. The styles changed so quickly in this era that by the next year the lady would order another gown featuring some new and novel design.

The silk embroideries have lasted, so we are able to re-use these lovely pieces.

Silk embroidery on the original gown, shown against the skirt lining. Inside the elaborate darpery I found a straiht pin, left there by a long-ago seamstress in Paris.

Silk embroidery on the original gown, shown against the skirt lining. Inside the elaborate drapery I found a straight pin, left there by a long-ago seamstress in Paris.

One of the typical features in many of these late Edwardian gowns is the insert at the front of the bodice. These vestees are often the most distinctive and artistic section of the gown, repeating and embellishing the overall theme. On this gown, the silk backing the vestee has been shattered and broken apart, but the metallic lace was intact.

I carefully removed the intact embroidered bands, revealing the original vestee.

The silk organza backing was shattered.

The “S-curve” silhouette is another trademark of the Edwardian era. You might look at those early photos and wonder how they puffed their chests out like that! This glimpse of the supporting ruffles may answer the question. These ruffles were made of substantial silk satin, gathered to the lining and allowed to support the outer fabric. You can see from the photo that the edges were pinked, not hemmed, and that this section of the dress is still like new after 100 years.

The original ruffles supported the “S-curve” shape.

The bodice lining, from the inside, reveals much about couture construction techniques.

I was reminded of a different approach to garment construction as I studied the lining of this gown. If you look closely at the photo, you will notice that the shoulder strap section is sewn by hand to the body of the lining. The edges were hand hemmed first, and then the entire section was whip stitched along the connecting edges. Our modern method would be to machine these pieces together along a standard seams line, but this couture method gives the designer much more control over the final fit.

I have sometimes read ladies’ complaints about the endless time spent in fittings at the dressmaker’s in journals and letters of earlier times. As we examine the careful attention to a perfect fit, starting with that innermost layer, we can see why the fittings were necessary. This also helps me to understand some of the exorbitant expense of a designer gown. This dress was not pre-cut with dozens of other dresses and then sewn together by machine in an assembly line! This couture gown was created, customized and crafted for only one client. Of course she (or her husband) would pay for that sort of detail!

An underarm gusset was added for better fit and then embroidered to blend into the overall design.

Note the underarm gusset… Madeleine Vionnet originally worked at the Callot Soeurs house, where this gown was made – imagine her learning to work with this element here, to be carried on later in her revolutionary bias cut gowns?

It’s a strange sensation to disassemble a piece of history. My usual inclination would be to preserve it. But, the client wanted to wear the gown, not merely look at it, and it was not wearable in its present state. It would be too small to fit her, and there would have been the constant threat of further damage. Plus, of course, a large part of this gown had already been removed from the skirt. We can only imagine how grand that section must have been!

I was privileged to be able to take my time in the process and to take clear photos every step of the way. As I worked, I learned.

Next post: the new gown

Recreating an Antique Paris Gown

Posted on March 13, 2014March 13, 2014 by Kay Demlow

Vintage garments are our windows to the past. In them we can discover the techniques of early designers and dressmakers. Since I value each garment as an original source for research, I am reluctant to do anything to an original vintage garment that would destroy that information. However, some time ago I had a client approach me with an intriguing project: could I replicate a Paris original, circa 1912, salvaging the primary elements that made it a true work of art?

The original Paris gown with modern silk for the replica

The dress was beautiful! The skirt had been draped cleverly in a novel style, and several sections of the gown were embroidered with metallic threads. There was a heavy, luxurious silk tassel at the front of the skirt. With all the draping and embellishment, it was clearly of the era. The shape of the skirt was slim, yet there was a graceful train. There was a high waist to the bodice, but a structured lining beneath it all. The most significant design detail was the square neckline in front, with a rich vestee of metallic lace, and a corresponding vee shaped section at the back closure. We have seen this line in Janet Arnold’s Patterns of Fashion, and of course, in the elegant dinner gowns in films like “Titanic” and shows like “Downtown Abbey.”

The original Paris gown

However, this particular garment was damaged beyond any change of wearing or even exhibiting it. The bodice had worn away on the shoulders. Sections of it were in shreds, probably due to the weight and roughness of the beautiful metallic embroideries. Sometime in the past, someone had cut away a section of the skirt, probably to use the rich embroideries as a home décor item. The skirt was ruined. And finally, the client wanted to wear it but couldn’t in its current condition. It was a size too small.

The tops of the sleeves had worn away.

The silk in the bodice was shattered.

I agreed to take on the challenge. Along the way I documented the original gown as well as I could so that I would have a record of the 1912 Paris couture techniques that were used in the original. Here is what I recorded.

The hand embroidered trim continued into the lower back sections. I thought of those early Parisiennes, spending their days under skylights in ateliers to create this gown.

The front of the gown, with its intricate draping and ornate tassel, was one of its most beautiful features.

The inside of the bodice showed 19th century contstruction and boning.

The inside of the bodice showed 19th century construction and boning.

The shoudler straps had been attached by hand, using whip stitches... probably after a fitting.

The shoulder straps had been attached by hand, using whip stitches… probably after a fitting.

Close-up of strap interior

The inside of the sleeve shows the layers of fabric and the method of slip stitching them together.

The outside layers of the bodice were constructed over the boned foundation, giving the appearance of a soft kimono sleeve over the lace insert.

Under the arm, a gusset gave additional wearing ease.

In my next post, I will share the step by step process of recreating the 1912 gown, using new materials where necessary and the original luxurious fabric where possible.

Comfort and Style at Old Mackinac Point Lighthouse

Posted on March 3, 2014March 4, 2014 by Kay Demlow

Skilled interpreters at historic places consider their audience, the setting and the story they are about to share. The historic replica clothing they wear should be chosen for authenticity and appropriateness. At a site that is open throughout the summer season, the interpreters’ clothing is generally lightweight and appropriate to the weather. But many seasonal parks open in late spring and stay open into fall. This is the “shoulder season,” a time when mornings can be chilly and cold rain can challenge the interpreter and the audience.

Old Mackinac Point Lighthouse (Mackinac Island Images)

Recently I worked on a project with Craig Wilson, the Museum Historian at Mackinac State Parks in northern Michigan. You may have heard of Mackinac Island; it’s a place where automobiles were banned almost as soon as they were invented. There are still no automobiles on the island today. People get around on foot, on bicycles, or by horse-drawn conveyances. You may have seen bits of Mackinac Island, including the historic Grand Hotel, if you watched the romantic film “Somewhere in Time.” Mackinac City is on the mainland, one of six local park sites.

Mackinac Island, Michigan in summer (Mackinac Island Images)

In the wintertime the region is cold and covered with snow. But starting in early May, the summer visitors begin to arrive. Mackinac State Park welcomes them with historic sites from several eras, including the 1889 lighthouse.

Mackinac State Park Lighthouse

Here’s what their website tells us about the history:
“A point in the storm and a guiding beacon since 1889, Old Mackinac Point Lighthouse helped passing ships navigate through the treacherous waters of the Straits of Mackinac. There’s just as much to see from the top of the tower as inside the original buildings. Authentically restored quarters and exhibits, including the original lens and an audiovisual program, Shipwrecks of the Straits, make this “Castle of the Straits” a true gem of the Great Lakes.

The lighthouse is located in Mackinaw City, Michigan. It is closed in the winter and will reopen May 5, 2014.”

Problems in clothing the interpreters

Craig Wilson wanted to provide something that was both warm and authentic for the primary interpreter during the cool spring and fall days. The women interpretive guides usually wear skirts and shirtwaists from the era of 1910 to 1915, mostly in neutral summer colors. Some days, those cotton blouses just aren’t enough protection! Lavender’s Green worked with Craig to research and create a jacket that was both warm and authentic.

Designing the jacket

Fashions were changing rapidly during the ‘teens, the time represented at the lighthouse. A review of fashion plates and photos shows a wide range of styles that might have been worn in the big cities and by the wealthy vacationers at Mackinac Island.

October 1916 Russell's Standard Fashions, publ. by Dover Press

October 1916 Russell’s Standard Fashions, reprint published by Dover Press

Dorothy Minto, photographed in 1912 by Bassino

However, a lighthouse keeper was not among the well-to-do classes, and the lighthouse keeper’s wife or daughter would probably not wear a high-fashion suit on her daily rounds. Instead, we looked to examples provided in contemporary paintings. These were scenes from everyday life, and they helped us to see what a woman might have thrown over her clothes in her home or garden.

Amer Edmund Tarbell (American painter, 1862-1938) Josephine Knitting

Josephine Knitting by Amer Edmund Tarbell (American painter, 1862 – 1938) shows a simple separates look for at-home wear.

Another classic jacket is pictured in the 1915 painting, Portrait of E N Glebova by Russian painter Pavel Filonov.

A slightly later painting, The Garden Bench, painted in 1920 by American Rae Sloan Bredin, shows a similar jacket in a summer setting.

We chose this basic style, with a high waisted belt and some flare over the hips, as a typical style of the time. We had measurements for Helen, one of the long-term interpretive staffers. I started with a pattern from Folkwear Patterns, which is now out of print. Folkwear’s “Equestriennes Riding Habit,” (copyright 1994) was a copy of a three-piece 1920 linen riding habit, unlined. I began with that jacket, simplified the pockets, and added a silk lining.

Fabric and color choices

Craig wanted the new jacket to be a dark color that would coordinate with the existing wardrobe at the park. Skirts in the collection were tan, black and other neutral shades. I selected a nautical blue wool flannel based on its warmth and the beautiful color. I was able to discover a 1907 painting that showed that exact shade being worn in a casual, watery summertime setting.

Lady Rowing a Boat by Lilla Cabot Perry (American 1848 – 1933)

The wool jacket is lined in white china silk, similar to what you might find in a vintage garment, and a useful extra layer against the Lake Michigan wind.

The finished jacket

Senior Lighthouse Interpreter Helen wearing the jacket

While it may not be high fashion for 1915, the new jacket is certainly an authentic and practical addition to the lighthouse interpreters’ wardrobes.

Dressing the Empress

Posted on February 25, 2014March 11, 2014 by Kay Demlow

Portrait of Josephine by Francis Gerard 1801

Even if you haven’t studied early 19^th century history, you have certainly heard of Napoleon and Josephine. Napoleon Bonaparte was the Emperor of France from 1804 until 1814 and the builder of a new nation after the French Revolution. Josephine was his beloved wife.

Recently I was honored to be commissioned to make clothing for the Empress herself.

Actually, of course, I was not sewing for Josephine, but for a lovely modern woman who would portray her. Victoria Reibel is an interpreter and actress at the Frazier History Museum in Louisville, Kentucky. Kelly Moore, the Museum’s Outreach Liaison, contacted Lavender’s Green for a proposal on what she should wear for the program.

Josephine Bonaparte 1812

Before I design a gown, I like to understand the context: where will it be worn, for what audience, and to tell what story? Josephine’s public performance would portray her a few evenings before Napoleon’s and her own coronation in 1804. This interpretation was not to be a formal speech, but an “evening in the parlor” situation. Josephine would talk to the audience about her life, her relationship with Napoleon, and the impending coronation.

Many of the contemporary portraits of Josephine display her creamy skin and lovely figure. She was pictured in the fashionable thin white cotton gowns of the Empire period, a style that she wore extremely well. Most of the paintings suggest that she wore very little under the gowns, and certainly no heavy stays! However, since the Museum would be introducing Josephine to an audience of 21^st century people, including children, we preferred not to display all her “charms.” Instead, we discussed what sort of underpinnings would provide our Josephine with a period-correct shape without detracting from her sheer gown.

Short stays from Costume Parisienne 1810

From an 1824 reprint of an 1811 engraving

A fashionable silhouette begins with the right underpinnings. For Victoria, who already had Josephine’s tall, slender build, we chose short stays. My research showed me images of the types of stays that were worn; I adapted a pattern to suit our Josephine and give her the low neckline and snug fit she would need for her performance. To wear next to her skin, under the stays, I made a thin cotton shift with a distinctive neckline. Some period examples have this “slashed” feature; the flap could be lowered over the top of the stays to hide rough edges and any fastenings. I hand-hemmed the stays so there would be no distraction from modern finishes to spoil the illusion of 1804.

The dress we designed for Josephine would be sheer cotton voile, trimmed with faux-gold crocheted lace to hint at the opulence of the original. She would wear it over a more opaque white cotton sleeveless underdress, giving her an air of mystery while maintaining some modesty.

The clothing was shipped well in advance of the program, so that Victoria would have time to try on the garments and become accustomed to moving easily in them. The Museum staff did note that the back of the gown was very tight and pulled a bit as she moved; there was still time to make the needed alterations for a perfect fit. Finally, the ensemble was complete!

Museum photographer Reggie Davis captured this image of “Josephine” to use in publicity for the program.

When the program was ready, American audiences were able to “meet” one of the most famous women in European history, portrayed by a skilled interpreter, on a stage set by thorough Museum staffers, and clothed in replica garments from Lavender’s Green Historic Clothing.

Photo courtesy of the Frazier Museum

Photo courtesy of the Frazier Museum

Photo courtesy of the Frazier Museum

What a collaboration!

Welcome to Lavender’s Green Blog

Posted on February 25, 2014August 11, 2020 by lg2014

Lavender’s Green Historic Clothing has always been a mail-order company with a virtual “shop”, meeting customers through our on-line presence. Consider this blog to be our showroom, displaying what we are learning and what’s happening at Lavender’s Green.