Historybounding to Thrill My High School Self

When I was in high school, I really loved the gothy witch look. I thought it was so cool and dramatic and just the perfect emo romance aesthetic, which, because I was in high school, seemed like the height of fashion. But I was also a teenager with little control over my life, and I knew my ultra-conservative parents would freak out if I showed any signs of wanting to dress this way (after all, they forbid me to read Harry Potter when I was a junior in high school, because WITCHCRAFT, and what if I decide to WORSHIP SATAN after reading it?!?? :P). Even in college, I would longingly look through the racks at Hot Topic, but then regretfully mentally shelve the idea for someday. 

Well, that day is this day, because I have finally made the witchy little cropped jacket of my high school dreams! As I said in my last blog post, I'm taking Advanced Tailoring this semester, and we are required to make two jackets/coats. After going floor-length drama on my previous coat, I went the opposite direction with this one and made a little 1903-ish bolero. I wanted to make something to match the skirt I made in Flat Pattern class (which I have yet to blog about). I was inspired by all the trimmed-out jackets with bell sleeves that I saw in fashion illustrations from the early Edwardian era. 

1902-03 fashion plates.

Basically the same, right? :D

Since my pirate coat was so involved and I was coming up on the end of the semester, I wanted this jacket to be fast and simple: no notched collar, no pad-stitching, few seams, no closure. Since the front didn't close and didn't need to hug the body, I was able to get away with no darts or seams at all in the front pattern piece. The collar was inspired the batwing lapel on @dressingprincelee's waistcoat, but to keep things easier, rather than having the thick seam allowance (suiting+interfacing, cotton back stay, velvet+lining) turned under and having a facing, I decided to just baste the lining to the shell, wrong sides together, trim down the seam allowance, and bind the edge with more of the satin. This worked wonderfully and the binding adds another neat trim detail. 

Other than the satin edge binding, I decorated the jacket with some Venise lace trim from the stash, and  cut up some of the motifs to add to the collar. The crowning detail was this little handmade beaded tassel that I added to the back collar point. It was a tedious 2+ hour project, making that tassel, but it's just the perfect extra touch!

If you look carefully, you see where the fabric is bubbling because of the poor fusing.

Summary

Pattern: Self-drafted

Fabric: 1.5 yards of 58" polyester suiting with a weird texture on the wrong side, from somebody's destash? I don't know, I've had it for years and have forgotten where it's from. The collar and cuff detail is more of this polyester velvet tablecloth that just keeps on giving somehow. I still have a few more scraps of it, so at this point it's pretty much the best $10 I've ever spent on a secondhand textile. The lining is a fairly hefty black poly satin for the body, and black rayon Bemberg for the sleeves. Both of those were from the stash as well, although they were originally purchased new. 

Notions: More Armo-Weft fusible interfacing, which I sorely regret using, as it did not fuse well with the weird texture on the suiting. And because the suiting's surface is so smooth, the bubbling is really obvious, and the whole combination is weirdly stiff. Well, I've learned my lesson and will be using fusibles with caution in the future. I also used stash batting scraps to make shoulder pads, fleece for sleeve cap easing/sleeve heads, and more sheet fabric for a back stay. 

Techniques: Beaded tassel, setting in tailored sleeves

Hours: 38 over the course of a month, mostly at night after the kids were asleep. A lot of this was spent on fussy hand sewing, which I used to scorn, but have now recognized as not only necessary, but enjoyable. The velvet collar and cuffs required so much hand basting, and I tacked down all the braided trim and lace points by hand, and the binding all had to be slipstitched, and of course there was the beaded tassel. 

Total Cost: $30 of materials, and then if I pay myself $15/hour, then $600 total.

Final Thoughts: I'm really angry at myself for falling into the laziness trap of fusible interfacing, because other than that huge glaring error, this jacket would be perfect. I think I'll still wear it, though, since I'm telling myself that that's something only other sewists would notice, and there's enough going on with the collar and trim to distract from the surface texture. I still need to get my act together to take pictures with all the components of my now-completed 1903 Slytherin outfit, but in the meantime, it works nicely with modern clothes too. You know, for when we actually go out in real clothes again, as opposed to staying home in sweats. 

Recognize those pants? They're also the product of a Canada College class! 

Slytherin Gibson Girl Undergarments

There are certain tenets of historical costuming that everyone knows, like always put on your shoes before your corset, or don't choose polyester to make your ren faire outfit unless you want to pass out from heat exhaustion. Probably the most important one, though, is to always get your undergarments squared away, including the corset or stays, before making the pretty stuff that goes on top. Which is why, when I decided to make a Slytherin Gibson girl outfit, I started with the shirtwaist and then backtracked to the undergarments without ever having made or acquired an appropriate S-bend corset. And when I say undergarments, I really mean middle garments, because I made a corset cover, petticoat, and bum pad, not a chemise and drawers. Can it really even be called a corset cover if it's not covering a corset? Well, you know what they say: you gotta know what the rules are so you can break them, or some such nonsense.

Case in point: you're supposed to sketch your goal look before making the outfit so that you know what you're aiming for. I drew this after I made everything because I forgot that it was required for my assignment. 

In Canada College fashion department classes, besides the regular homework and the final outfit (of which the shirtwaist is the top half), we usually have to also turn in a lab garment. This is just another full outfit (covering an entire dress form, so a top and a skirt, or a dress) that demonstrates the skills we are learning, so we have to include the quarter- and full-scale patterns with the garments to show how we manipulated the basic sloper. At first, I had grand plans to make a tailored jacket to go on top, but that would 1) not be a complete outfit covering the dress form, and 2) take more time than I have to do it well. I think I'm going to save that for when I take Advanced Tailoring at some point in the future. In the interest of making a related but faster/easier lab garment, I decided to make a corset cover (basically, a sleeveless top that goes over the corset to disguise the hard lines of its edges) and a petticoat.

From here. 

I'm so glad that there are a lot of images floating around Pinterest that show pattern pieces or drafts for how to make a corset cover; that made it easy to manipulate the sloper to "match" the historical pieces. I also looked at a lot of extant corset covers (thank you to the Met for allowing me to just search "corset cover" and not the usual generic "undergarments" because that really made it a lot easier than having to sort through thousands of other kinds of undergarments) to get an idea for what kinds of variations were permissible. You know, so that I could then ignore them and do my usual "ehh, that's close enough" thing. I shifted the bust dart to the waist and then converted that dart to gathers, and converted the back darts to gathering at the neckline. The peplum was made by putting together the top sections of the skirt sloper to take out the darts, almost like making a skirt yoke, so as to keep it low profile when tucked into the petticoat.

Quarter-scale pattern work.

The finished corset cover. 

The back! Compare to this one from The Met, which is looser. 

The front closes with buttons, plus a hook and bar at the waist and a ribbon at the top. I decided to go Bernadette Banner and make hand-worked buttonholes...and let's just say that it's a good thing these will be under the shirtwaist. I still enjoyed the process more than making machine buttonholes, though, so it was still a net positive.

For the petticoat, I referenced the excellent material collected on Sew Historically and ended up doing what were basically curved trapezoids that gathered at the waist with a drawstring, with the ruffle being just a long rectangle gathered to the hem of the trapezoids. Ideally I would have had lace at the ruffle seam, and probably some tucks to help hold out the ruffle more, but in the interest of time, I left it plain.

I'm glad the historically accurate finish for the waist is so simple: slap on some bias tape to make a casing, and no need to even add a placket or closure to the opening.

I used the rolled-hem foot on my machine to finish all the yards of hem. 

Since I don't have an S-bend corset, nor do I plan on getting one just for this ridiculous little project, it was imperative that I have a bustle pad to help get closer to the right silhouette. I just sketched out a little curved semi-circle shape like the one in this historical patent, cut it out of muslin and then stuffed it with Costco bear innards (one of my students gave one to SHB#1 without my prior knowledge/consent, so I've been slowly deflating it every time I need stuffing) and sewed on a piece of twill tape for a waist tie. Once again, Bernadette Banner's video was very helpful, even if I mostly didn't do what she did.

My hair has gotten ridiculously long (I haven't cut it since getting pregnant with SHB#2, which was three years ago, so it's down to the small of my back) so I figured I would give the Gibson girl hairstyle a try. I used the black pudding plushie I made nine years ago as a hair rat, then used oh, a hundred or so bobby pins to secure my hair over it. I think it worked fairly well for a spur of the moment hairstyle!

Of course, I realized *after* I did my hair that I was wearing a t-shirt and not a button-up shirt. Rather than take it off over my head to change, I had to awkwardly shimmy it off over my hips. Good thing it's just an old work shirt from Mr. Cation, so it doesn't matter that the neck hole got all stretched out! 

So here's what it all looked like together:

Oh hai, I'm the Chinese Camille Clifford knock-off. 

My hair was falling down in the back. Looks like a hundred bobby pins wasn't enough. 

Nice rounding out of the bum area provided by the little bustle pad!

And why are all these pictures so awkwardly cropped? Because the small human beings were entranced by Mommy's funny hair and clothes and were hovering around.

Summary

Pattern: Self-drafted, based on historical pattern pieces/drafting directions

Fabric: For the corset cover, I used a leftover piece of thrifted white cotton sateen sheet (the rest of the sheet went to a Princess Leia costume for a friend). I dyed it with coffee to get it match the lace. The petticoat is a (unfortunately) polyester microfiber sheet in a pale mint green that somebody gave me "because you like sewing with sheets, right?" I used it because it fits the Slytherin color scheme, and all my other sheets were too patterned or earmarked for other projects already.

Notions: Three very anachronistic clear buttons for the corset cover, and a hook for the waist closure. I ran out of bars so I made a thread bar for the first time! The lace for the top is from a vintage fair I went to eight years ago, so I'm glad I finally got a chance to use it. The bias tape for the petticoat drawstring casing is from my school librarian's neighbor's destash, and the drawstring itself is cut off of an old bathrobe.

Hours: A couple hours for drafting, a couple for cutting out, 1.5 hours for sewing the petticoat, and probably four for the corset cover. Total: let's just say 14.

How accurate is it? The corset cover should be made with thinner fabric and probably should have a drawstring at the waist, too. The petticoat should probably be made with stiffer fabric and have more lace, tucks, and ruffles.

Total cost: The fabrics were all stash, given to me, or leftover from other projects, so I'm going to say $5 when counting the little bit of lace, cotton sheet, and buttons. And once again, I didn't buy anything new!

Final thoughts: The corset cover is a little tight in the armscye and bust area, so I'm thinking of going in and adding a little triangular wedge at the side seam. Again, we're theoretically not designing garments for ourselves, but for a mannequin, so I'm not surprised, but I would like it to be a little more comfortable to wear. I think once I do that and get a blousier fit, I'll be pretty pleased with the overall "ooh, I'm in my historical undahwears!" look though!

Old-timey filter!

Flat Pattern Class

In this unprecedented time of #canceleverything, I am grateful for the things that have not been canceled. I've missed out on a historical dance, a historical tea, and a cookie exchange with historical costuming friends, as well as several birthday parties. My school's play, A Little Princess, for which I was doing historical costumes (sense a theme here?), was also canceled. What *is* still happening, though, is the Flat Pattern Class I'm taking at Canada College. Of course, it's been moved online, but I'm glad that I happened to be taking a class more suited to distance learning than say, tailoring or fashion illustration. Our professor is still showing how to do pattern manipulations on Zoom, and we are emailing pictures of our patterns and garments. Obviously, we don't all have mannequins on which to display or test our garments, but it's working fairly well, all things considered.

But back up a little: if you don't know what flat pattern manipulation is, it's where you take a basic sloper pattern (plain fitted bodice + sleeve + straight skirt with darts in "standard" places) and by shifting darts around, adding fullness, and contouring, can totally change the pattern pieces to make anything you want. I realized after the class started that I'd basically already been doing this to a lot of my TNT patterns in order to get the style lines I wanted for various costumes, but it was nice to learn it "officially" so that I could pick up on the little tidbits of information I missed as a self-taught sewist. Things like the industry standard for how far to back dart tips off from the apex (instead of my usual "ehh, that looks about right!"), or the proper way to add fullness (slashing and spreading at multiple points, then truing the stitch line, instead of my haphazard scooting the pattern piece over until it looked right...are you sensing a theme here, too?). I confess I do get a little impatient sometimes about the pace of the class, because I feel like all these manipulations are obvious, but then I have to remind myself to take a deep breath because not everyone taking the class has been doing this for years. Teachers really do make the worst students sometimes.

Anyway, so one of our assignments was to make a top with a sleeve of some kind and a collar that had a closure, and show the pattern manipulation work that went into it. I didn't want to make some variation of a cutesy Peter Pan collar on a button up shirt with puff sleeves, which which is what a lot of people went with. So I started brainstorming...and coming off of my mourning for the Victorian costumes that I made for A Little Princess that would never be worn, I decided that I was going to make a turn of the century, early 1900s-style blouse, with a high stand collar, bishop sleeves, and a full gathered front, pouter-pigeon look. And as I looked at the fabrics available to me in my stash (lots of gray, green, and black), I decided that I was going to go all in and make myself a historical Slytherin costume. The final garments for this class have to include a top and a skirt (or an entire dress...basically it has to cover a dress form so that it's dressed "decently"), and if I made a top for this assignment, then I could just make a skirt to complete the final outfit. Was I making a lot of extra work for myself, drafting such a complicated outfit? The answer is yes. Did I care? No. I'm using all my Canada College classes as an excuse to indulge in my love for historical fashion (see Exhibit A, Fashion Illustration classes, and Exhibit B, Tailoring Class).

Here's what my quarter scale work looked like. We're supposed to work out our designs in quarter scale first so that the professor can check our work, then we make the full-scale pattern and mock it up. I didn't bother with a mock-up and just went straight for fashion fabric, because 1) we're designing for a standard size 8 mannequin, which is basically my size so I have a fairly good idea how things should look/fit, and 2) my fashion fabric is thrifted sheets, so no big loss if it doesn't work out. I did dress it up more with some stash lace, which was so shifty that I had to hand baste it all in place before I could start sewing, so that was also obviously an excellent time-saving decision in this time of extra work due to home-schooling.

I'm pretty pleased with how centered I got the lace motifs!

I think the side profile has the right kind of poofy pigeon-breast look. 

Oops, Cecily's skirt, my stand-in until I make the real one, is slightly off-center. It's a thrift store find that used to be a too big, 90s-tastic, empire-waisted, tea-length, burnout-velvet dress, so I cut off the top portion and redid the top edge with a petersham ribbon facing to make it into a floor-length skirt.

The back closes with hooks and bars, as do the sleeve cuffs, mostly because I had lots of them leftover from our anniversary trip to the UK, where I found a vintage pack of a hundred at a charity shop. I've gotten a lot better/faster at sewing them on now, but I still don't like doing it and mine aren't particularly neat. But they're all hidden, and black on black is hard to see, so I think ultimately the pragmatic Slytherin thing to do is to get them done functionally and save all the agonizing over perfection for when Voldemort is actually watching the parts that are actually showing.

More Slytherin secrets: the inside seams aren't finished. 

I had to look up how to finish the sleeve placket because I haven't done one in oh, at least five years. 

Summary

Pattern: Self-drafted, but based on period illustrations/patterns like the one below.

Source: the Original Pre-1929 Historical Patterns tumblr is a treasure trove.

Fabric: Half of a full-size flat sheet in gray cotton sateen, thrifted and leftover from drama costume making, for the main blouse fabric. The yoke was overlaid in black lace from a 1/2-yard remnant that I bought from Joann's years ago. I don't know the fiber content anymore, but it's definitely synthetic. For the cuff and collar lace overlays, I used scraps from a remnant pack that I bought at the Dark Garden trunk sale years ago. The strip of black fabric for back closure was from another thrifted cotton sateen sheet scrap, and the bias tape binding at the hem is silk dupioni leftover from my Ursula bustier. I'm really pleased with how I've been able to use all leftover pieces of fabric from my stash for this!

Notions: Interfacing for the collar, cuffs, and back closure, pieced together from the leftover of my tailoring class coat, and souvenir hooks and bars

Hours: A couple hours each for drafting and cutting, another hour of hand-basting lace, maybe five hours for actual sewing, and then another hour of hook and bar sewing, so let's say 11 hours total.

How accurate is it? Like everything else I do, not really: a cotton shirtwaist would need to be in thinner material, and obviously synthetic laces are right out, but I tried to get the overall impression of the look right? I think the thickness of the sheet fabric prevents the gathers from falling as nicely as they should, but my pattern pieces are pretty good I think.

Total cost: It's made from so many little scrappy leftover bits, it's hard to say, but I would say definitely less than $10.

Final thoughts: It's hard not to focus in on the one mistake I know I made: I cut the center front piece wrong, so there's something wonky going on in the middle. Plus, the stiffness of the sheet fabric makes for an awkwardly puffy-looking blouse (as opposed to period-accurate puffiness), so I feel like I should go back and redo it. That would involve A LOT of seam ripping though, so I may wait until the full ensemble is done to see if it still bothers me enough to warrant fixing it. I am hoping that once I finish everything else (skirt, belt, and Eton jacket/bolero-y thing), the overall look will be good enough that I won't feel like I need to.

Fingers crossed!

I'm Part of the #ADCapeCult Now!

I've loved American Duchess for a long time, from their gorgeous historical shoes to the very helpful blog chronicling the making of various items of historical clothing, the accessibility of their Simplicity patterns and their informative Fashion History podcast. Somehow it escaped my notice that they had a Patreon page, but then all these costumers I admire and follow on IG were posting about making this 1912 wrap cape from a free pattern by AD. So now, a week of naptime/post-bedtime sewing later, I have a cape and am a patron of American Duchess!

I actually had this cape pinned ever since participating in the VPLL 1912 Project years ago, so of course I had to make it. It seemed like most IG-ers were either making neutral gray/black/brown versions, and a few people made capes in their Hogwarts house colors. I knew I wanted to go vivid, and I had a red brocade tablecloth that I got at a thrift store several years ago that I actually meant to make into a cape...but I'm so not a Gryffindor. In fact, when I took a Sorting Hat quiz that tells you what percentage of each house you are, I think I got something along the lines of 67% Slytherin and 33% Ravenclaw, and zero percent Hufflepuff and Gryffindor. In other words, if you want someone to learn a lot of information and then use it for their own ambitious ends, while not caring about other people or the right thing to do, then apparently I'm your person. *insert laugh-crying emoji here* I think I had a genuine existential dilemma for five minutes about making a red cape when I'm so not a Gryff, but in the end I decided I wanted a red cape too much, and  since I was lining it in black satin, I could just call it a Fire Nation cape. Not that entire fictional countries must match up to Hogwarts houses, but I really do think the Fire Nation (as evidenced by its royals) is the most Slytherin nation in ATLA. Nerdy crossover fanning aside, though, I'm so glad I went with the saturated dark red, both because that's one of my favorite colors to wear, and because if you're going to make an impractical historical cape, you might as well go the whole way and make it an impractical color too?

The AD pattern is done on a tiny grid, like Janet Arnold's Patterns of Fashion books. When I was making JA patterns, I enlarged them by drawing on the back of wrapping paper that was printed with a 1-inch grid. I don't have any gridded paper anymore, so I scaled up the pattern by plotting it on medical paper (which is very thin and see-through) laid over my gridded self-healing cutting mat. It took a couple hours (with lots of interruption from kids, so YMMV), then another couple of hours to plan the layout on my tablecloth and cut the pieces. Somebody on IG pointed out that the shoulder seam notch on the cape piece didn't make sense grain-wise, and many people pointed out that the cape was two inches too short on the back piece when you walked the back-cape seam. Putting together these two pieces of information, I decided to rotate the cape piece back two inches: this makes the hem line up and also puts the grainline perpendicular to the floor when worn. Other than that, I didn't have any issues with making up the garment. The darts did take forever to mark and pin, and my polyester fabrics were tricky to press well without getting a weird shine (thank you, silk-organza press cloth and wooden half-dowel), especially on the collar. I also decided to make the cape theoretically reversible, so that meant changing up the collar fabrics and putting the contrast piece on both sides. Hemming the back piece at the end also took a couple of tries before I got the tablecloth and the satin lining to hang right together. To add some additional visual interest to the cape, I decided to add little chain tassels to the collar corners to mimic the buttons at the shoulders on the original cape. The cape is secured at the ends of the wrap pieces with hooks and eyes.

I seriously love this tablecloth. 

Annnnddd...flipped!

And worn flipped. 

The finished cape is just delightfully full and twirly and swooshy and good for dramatically storming about. If I were Snape (because a chemistry teacher is just a step away from potions professor, right?), I could flounce about most pleasingly! My only regret is not checking the shoulder fit before cutting and sewing: with my wide shoulders, the only way to get the shoulder seam to not sit obviously too far in toward my neck (and therefore make the cape hang funny) is to wear the wrap portion too loose. It's not the end of the world (that would be coronavirus), but I just wish I'd thought to check. It's been so long since I've sewn a new pattern that I forgot what issues I usually need to adjust for.

Why is red so hard to photograph in the only somewhat-still-lit corner of our backyard when we sneak out to quickly snap some photos while the kids have their half hour of screen time? Oh wait, I think I just answered my own question...

Summary:

Pattern: the American Duchess 1910s Wrap Cape pattern, free on their Patreon page

Fabric: a thrifted dark red poly-cotton brocade tablecloth, and black polyester satin from a friend's destash for the lining. I'm really pleased that I was able to make this suddenly-jumped-to-the-head-of-the-sewing-queue project entirely from stash materials.

Notions: three sets of hooks and eyes from a charity shop that I got on one of our anniversary trips to the UK, and two chain tassels that used to be earrings that I got at a clothing exchange.

Hours: Five for prepwork (scaling up the pattern, layout planning and cutting, pinning darts), then maybe another three for sewing and an additional hour for evening out the hem, sewing hooks and eyes, and adding tassels, for a total of nine hours.

How accurate is it? My fiber content is obviously anachronistic, but in terms of general look and "passing," I'd say pretty good!

Total cost: A whopping $5 for the tablecloth!

Final thoughts: How can you not love a cape? It's impractical, especially with young kids who see such a giant expanse of fabric as basically a giant napkin, and of course there's the fact that I made outerwear from non-breathable fabrics right as the weather is heating up, but I regret nothing. I'm so thankful that AD put out this pattern at this time, and I'm glad I can support their business even a little bit by being a patron.

Blouse #0219 Step by Step Construction, Part 2

Finished blouse, not tucked in so that you can see what it all looks like.
Also, I promise the front bottom edge is straight; no idea why it looks slanted here.

Here is the promised photo documentary of the construction of the cuffs and collar for this blouse from the VPLL 1912 Project. Part 1 of the construction is shown here.

Steampunk-Flavored Blouse: Done!

Please don't ask me what was going on with my hair. It looks like my head is on fire, except that the fire is...hair.

I am so in love with chevrons now.

Huzzah for me, for I have finished my first blouse! Complete with a front placket and cuffs and a collar and everything! And you know what? It wasn't nearly as bad as I was afraid it was going to be! And I'm also almost done with my vaguely steampunk Edwardian walking skirt as well! Isn't this amazing? Not a floral-patterned bed sheet dress in sight! Although to be fair, the skirt is made from donated curtains.

I already wrote about the construction of the main part of the blouse, complete with tricky sleeve construction. Finishing the cuffs and collar was fiddly and time-consuming, but not actually that difficult. I think I know, now, why my mom made so many blouses when she was a young seamstress. I'm claiming this blouse as my Sew Weekly inspired-by-a-family photo challenge, even though I don't have a specific photo of my mom in a home-made blouse like this; she has plenty of pictures in blouses she made herself. I will post a full write-up of the construction of those pieces as soon as I can, but in the meantime I'm just so thrilled with how this outfit is coming together.

How perfect is it that a lady at church would be getting rid of old, huge curtains in such a wonderfully steampunk color palette, and they weren't even polyester monstrosities to boot! They're actually 70/30 viscose-poly, and they say in huge letters to DRY CLEAN ONLY; I ignored this directive, of course (I'm not going to pay good money to dry clean free curtains), and washed them in my bathtub in cold water and mild detergent (to be perfectly forthcoming, Method hand soap, in pink grapefruit, in case that matters) and hung them up to dry. Walnut was concerned to see these giant dripping things in his bathtub, but he got over it. Which is good, because let me tell you, these curtains badly needed washing -- not because they were dirty, but because they smelled like a candle store had wandered into them, gotten tangled up, and then died inside. Seriously, when I opened up the bag I felt like I was being physically assaulted by potpourri. Anyway, now my skirt is pleasantly, faintly sweet-smelling.

You can see here the weird shape of the waistband.

The skirt is a simple four-gored skirt, originally based on the OOP Simplicity 8375. I made up a size 10, my usual for Simplicity patterns, only to find the waist grossly oversized. Rather than take in all the seams, I settled for pleating the back to make a vague bustle-ish thing, which looks quite nice with all the stripes, in my opinion. The pattern calls for a simple long rectangle for the waistband, but between the shortness of the blouse back and the weight of the bustle/train, I knew I needed to have a waistband that would be much higher in the back. I ended up drafting this chevron thing, which looks nice in the front but needs some help in the back. I still need to figure out how to fix the closure so that it looks better, but at least it's high enough to cover the bottom of the blouse. I am also still waiting for my American Duchess Astorias to come in so that I know where to hem the skirt; it just hits the ground in front right now when I tippy-toe. I'm considering adding horsehair braid to help the hem stand out, but I'm not sure how that would work in the back with the dragging train.

I still want to make a shoulder-strappy-holster-vest-type-thing to round out this outfit, and then once I throw on all my various dangly things I'll be well on my way to a full-on steampunk detective outfit! The only reason why I chose detective, by the way, is because of my birthday magnifying glass from Anthropologie.

I'm technically not finished with the skirt, so I won't write up a summary just yet, and I'll put the summary for the blouse in the construction post. You're welcome, Shayna.

The awesome thing about the weird sleeve construction is what a wide range of motion I have, all without ever having to set in sleeves or make gussets! I seriously want to put this sleeve construction into everything now. And again, please ignore my hair.