Posing in Mah Elizabethan Undawears

I look dubious because I'm standing outside in only my shift! Good heavens! Mercy me!

I don't know if it's called a shift or a smock or a chemise, or all three are interchangeable, but here I am in mine. This makes me the Elizabethan equivalent of a centerfold. Only it's the awkwardest centerfold ever.

Close-ups of the details.

So yeah, I'm done with my shift/smock/chemise! Like the pair of bodies, it's made using Drea Leed's custom pattern generator (but with the construction directions given here), and like the pair of bodies, it's more hand-sewing than I normally do on a project. The collar and cuffs and neck slit are all done by hand with a combination of whipstitching, backstitching, and slip-stitching. I even worked up the courage to put in the ugliest underarm gussets ever. I can see that this is a technique I'm going to really need to work on before tackling those Vintage Vogue patterns in my stash. The resulting garment is exactly like every loose, mostly shapeless nightgowny thing I've seen, but it's super comfortable and the sleeves are excellent for being dramatic. Also, it makes an excellent base for a pirate outfit! Gosh, I really wish I could get away with wearing this out of the house on a regular basis. Dressing up is too fun to save for just one day a year.

With my red underbust corset, black boots, and a generic RTW gathered gray skirt. And unbrushed hair, because obviously pirate queens have better things to do than brush their hair. They're too busy buckling swashes.

I also need some giant gold earrings to make this work. And possibly a dirk between my teeth.

And in honor of my generic piratry, a poem from one of my favorite must-read-aloud poets:

Pirate Captain Jim, by Shel Silverstein

"Walk the plank," says Pirate Jim.
"But Captain Jim, I cannot swim."
"Then you must steer us through the gale."
"But Captain Jim, I cannot sail."
"Then down with the galley slaves you go."
"But Captain Jim, I cannot row."
"Then you must be a pirate's clerk."
"But Captain Jim, I cannot work."
"Then a pirate captain you must be."
"Thank you, Jim," says Captain Me.

Yucky underarm gusset. I think it would have made more sense to attach it
to the sleeve first, then sew the entire thing onto the body, instead of
this awkward fudging at the corner.

Summary:
Fabric: Three yards of 35" 100% cotton muslin
Notions: None! Unless you count the very anachronistic satin rattail cuff ties...what is one actually supposed to use? Lauren or Leimomi?
Techniques: Hand-worked eyelets at the cuffs, hand stitches, underarm and shoulder gussets
Hours: About six, but again, that's mostly due to the hand-sewing.
Will you make this again? I would like to make one for my husband (but obviously shirt length and without the side gores) to wear for a pirate outfit, but then he's not into dressing up so that's pretty unlikely.
Total cost: $6
Final thoughts: Good? It seems a little large for me, but that's easily fixable for the next time. I'm also concerned about the billowiness of the sleeves when it comes to fitting underneath a kirtle/through armholes. But then, a quick googling reveals that there are definitely some similarly huge ones out there, so I guess it's okay?


Now it's on to the kirtle, which will be equally materially inaccurate, being made from an old blue bedsheet and lined in the linen-rayon blend that I originally got for the shift, only it was too stiff. I may make a slight detour for a bit of a sewing break, though, and whip up another more modern dress. I've been totally ignoring the Sew Weekly challenges in favor of trying to push out this Ren Faire outfit, but now that it looks like I have plenty of time...oh gosh, I just jinxed myself, didn't I?

Finished Elizabethan Pair of Bodies!

It's been a long process, but my woefully historically inaccurate pair of bodies is done!

Note my vague attempt at Elizabethan fashion in the form of those collar ruffs, the lady's shoulder poofs, and the gentleman's elaborate doublet. They are obviously a pair, and the blood, the X-ed out eyes, and tongues sticking out indicate that they are most decidedly dead, and therefore are only bodies, a mere shell of a human, no longer possessed of their souls.

Just kidding. I promise I'll stop with the pair of bodies jokes; I just can't resist. I really meant that I'm finished with my conical torso-shaping "corset," although that term wasn't used until much later. Unfortunately, I haven't got any pictures of it on me since it's back-lacing, and I can't do it up myself. It will have to wait until the weekend of the faire when Elaine is here to lace me up. Until now, pictures on Cecily will have to suffice. It's not quite a true representation of what it will look like on me, since unlike Cecily, I am not made of foam, my bust is smaller, and my torso is longer and less cylindrical. But it still looks pretty good, at least to me...mind you, I am not sure what one is actually supposed to look like, but if I were to answer the Pattern Review question, "Did it look like the drawing on the pattern envelope?" I would say yes, almost exactly.

As I mentioned before, I used Drea Leed's Custom Corset Pattern Generator for the pattern; it was easy to use and her directions, while they could benefit from some real-life photos, are perfectly sufficient. Even the boned-tabbed version, which she describes as the most difficult, is not actually that hard to make, just time consuming. I did change the front busk into just more boning channels, as my initial experiments with a wooden paint-stirrer stick down the middle just felt weird and uncomfortable. Other than that, I followed her boning patterns, but with slightly more room between the pairs of bones where the tabs split in order to have space to cut and bind the tabs.

Here's what the inside looks like. It's the same upholstery canvas I used in my 1912 scalloped skirt.

Close-up of the tabs. I wasn't entirely successful at making all my stitches invisible, but I'll just file that under the "good enough" category. I also didn't know what to do about finishing the back edges, so I ended up folding over the outer fabric and stitching it down to make another boning channel. 

I am really happy with how the binding looks with the outer fabric! Even those hairpin turns weren't that bad!

Don't you like my anachronistic lacings as well?
All I had was a couple of mismatched shoelaces. Also, note the extra eyelet.

Summary:
Fabric: The outer fabric is a poly-cotton tablecloth from a bag of donated fabrics, the inner fabric is upholstery canvas of unknown content from the same bag. Not ideal materials, I know, but they were all that I had in my stash that wasn't stretchy.
Notions: Plastic cable ties for boning, narrow double fold bias tape for the binding, jeans top-stitching thread for the eyelets
Techniques used: Hand-worked eyelets, sharp turns with bias binding
Hours: Ummmm...let's just say a lot. I don't think I've ever done so much hand-sewing before! Just to give you an idea of how long it took, binding four tabs took me all of The Importance of Being Earnest.
Will you make this again? Even though this took forever, it was nowhere near the nightmare I was afraid it was going to be. I'm pretty sure it will be a while before I need another pair of bodies, but I would not be opposed to making another one (another pair?).
Total cost: The fabric was free, but the bias tape cost $2 and the cable ties were $8, so all in all, $10.
Final thoughts: I feel like I can't have final thoughts about this yet, seeing as how I haven't worn it properly, but so far things look good? I know that the waist could be smaller, and I accidentally made one eyelet too many on one side (asj&g#@!), but mostly I have decent thoughts about it?

Why, Cecily, how marvelously conical your torso looks today!

And for a poem from a similar time period, my favorite of Shakespeare's sonnets:

Sonnet 130, by William Shakespeare

My mistress' eyes are nothing like the sun;
Coral is far more red than her lips' red;
If snow be white, why then her breasts are dun;
If hairs be wires, black wires grow on her head.
I have seen roses damasked, red and white,
But no such roses see I in her cheeks;
And in some perfumes is there more delight
Than in the breath that from my mistress reeks.
I love to hear her speak, yet well I know
That music hath a far more pleasing sound;
I grant I never saw a goddess go;
My mistress when she walks treads on the ground.
And yet, by heaven, I think my love as rare
As any she belied with false compare.

And if you prefer your poetry read aloud, you can even have Severus Snape/Judge Turpin read it to you!

Spring Rain

Why is it that it rains every time we need to go to Costco? Anyway, whenever it rains I think of this poem, one of my favorites:

Spring Rain, by Sara Teasdale

I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain.

I remembered a darkened doorway
Where we stood while the storm swept by,
Thunder gripping the earth
And lightning scrawled on the sky.

The passing motor busses swayed,
For the street was a river of rain,
Lashed into little golden waves
In the lamp light’s stain.

With the wild spring rain and thunder
My heart was wild and gay;
Your eyes said more to me that night
Than your lips would ever say… .

I thought I had forgotten,
But it all came back again
To-night with the first spring thunder
In a rush of rain. 




The pair of bodies is so close to completion -- just four more tabs to bind! Unfortunately, I already know that they're too big in the waist; it's going to lace almost closed there...oh bother. I guess I should've taken into account the relative squishiness of my waist when using the CCPG. Also, the shift/chemise/smock is on its way to completion as well! Looks like I might be able to make my Ren Faire deadline after all, although part of me is still the tiniest bit sad to not go as a generic pirate queen.

Sheath Dress Analysis

I ended up not bringing my intended Easter dress to San Francisco with me because the weather forecast had predicted rain when I was packing. Of course, once I arrived, the city taunted me with beautiful sunny days and surprisingly warm weather for April. Oh, my dear city, why must you do this to me? I'm sorry I left you, but this is hardly the way to convince me to move back! Anyway, the dress I brought instead, a RTW gray plaid sheath dress from Target, suddenly seemed way too dreary. But I'm glad I brought it, because when I put it on, I realized...

Do you see it yet?

Now do you see it?

...it's pretty much the same as my springy sheath. It's got the same basic shape, with four tucks in the front with hip pockets, darts in the back, a regular topstitched center back zipper, and tiny cap sleeves and a relatively high neckline. The only real differences are the lining, the neckline pleats, and the lack of a back vent in the RTW version. Oh, and the RTW version is one of my favorite dresses, and the me-made version is not. Armed with that crucial lens with which to reexamine my me-made version, I knew I had to try to make this pattern work for me, so I went to work with my measuring tape. Here are my findings:

1. The biggest issue is the hip circumferences of the dresses (37" versus 40" makes a big difference in comfort when sitting down).
2. The bust dart in the me-made version is an inch higher and and takes in about 1.5" more material per dart. Hence the pointy-dart issue. It looks like I need to redraft the dart and side seam on the pattern to allow for a skinnier dart that can taper more easily. 
3. The back skirt darts are two inches shorter on the me-made version. If they were longer, maybe they could take in some of the excess fabric above my butt.
4. The sleeves on the RTW version are tiny caps, versus the larger caps on the me-made version; this makes a crucial difference in how high I can raise my arms. I like the look of the larger caps, but mobility is kind of important.  I don't want to have ineffectual T-rex arms if I can help it.
5. The bust and skirt lengths are the same, as well as the waist circumference, so at least I got that right without even trying.
6. The fabric on the RTW version is a flannel-esque plaid, which has simultaneously more thickness and better drape. This means it skims the hips in a more flattering way than the me-made version, despite being less form-fitting. Also, it's lined. 

It looks like I'm going to re-try this dress. Maybe not for a while, since I want to make another wintry one to replace the RTW version (I've had this dress for a couple years and it makes a regular appearance in my fall/winter teaching wardrobe, and now the flannel is starting to pill on the sides), but it's not being relegated to the donation pile yet. I'm also debating whether or not I want to attempt plaid-matching.

With only one side of half of the binding attached.
I realized, belatedly, that my front point wasn't symmetrical.
Ah well, I can't be bothered enough to go back and fix it.

In other sewing news, I am so close to finishing my pair of bodies! I just need to finish binding the tabs (which, if you have done this before, you know is hardly a "just" kind of task). After that comes the chemise, but the linen-rayon blend I bought from Jo-Ann's has washed up rather stiffly, and I'm not pleased with how it feels against my skin. It looks like I might have to go with inaccurate cotton muslin (but my bodies are so inaccurate this hardly seems an arguable point), or just suck it up and go back for the much more expensive 100% linen.

A Series of Easter Poems

Not sewing related, of course.

The Coming, by R. S. Thomas

And God held in his hand
A small globe. Look he said.
The son looked. Far off,
As through water, he saw
A scorched land of fierce
Colour. The light burned
There; crusted buildings
Cast their shadows: a bright
Serpent, A river
Uncoiled itself, radiant
With slime.
On a bare
Hill a bare tree saddened
The sky. many People
Held out their thin arms
To it, as though waiting
For a vanished April
To return to its crossed
Boughs. The son watched
Them. Let me go there, he said.


The Crucifixion, by Steve Turner

You were one with the Father.
Then the Father turned his back on you.
You felt forsaken,
hanging there between heaven's thunder
and the dank spittle of earth.

For that moment you belonged nowhere.
You were love, cut off from love;
truth nailed down by lies.
You must have wanted to explode, to disintegrate,
to disappear into a void.
But that was forbidden.
And that was the test.

Your blood burst through your skin
and ran down like sweat.
Your sweat ran cold
and drained into your heart.
The universe caught hold of your pain.
The sun went blind with grief.
The earth shivered in shock.
History was torn in two.

I stood at a distance,
my collar turned up,
like a murderer witnessing
a wrongful arrest.


The Morning That Death Was Killed, by Steve Turner

I woke in a place that was dark
The air was spicy and still
I was bandaged from head to foot
The morning that death was killed.

I rose from a mattress of stone
I folded my clothes on the sill
I heard the door rolling open
The morning that death was killed.

I walked alone in the garden
The birds in the branches trilled
It felt like a new beginning
The morning that death was killed.

Mary, she came there to find me
Peter with wonder was filled
And John came running and jumping
The morning that death was killed.

My friends were lost in amazement
My father, I knew, was thrilled
Things were never the same again
After the morning that death was killed.

So-so Springy Sampler Sheath

You know how when you start embroidery, you're supposed to make a sampler of all your different stitches? And it's not really meant to be a treasure-forever piece, more just for practicing techniques? Well, this dress is like that. I started it as a wearable muslin of sorts, just to test out a new pattern (McCall's 5927), and I wasn't a big fan of the fabrics I used. But they were very springy, and I wanted to make a new dress for Easter.

Pretty insides!

This dress is supposed to be lined, but since this was just a muslin, I didn't bother. Also I was feeling lazy because of spring break, and I didn't want to go through the trouble of thinking about how to do a lining when there are sleeves to deal with. So instead of lining it, I finished the neck and armholes with bias tape, then slipstitched the tape to the dress. I also finished the hem with seam binding and slipstitched that, too. I've gotten much better at making my stitches invisible, but it still takes me forever. Which begs the question -- should I be trying to become a faster hand-sewer, or just bask in the process? I feel like trying to speed up makes my stitches sloppy, but it really takes an abominably long time for me to do just one armhole. I think I spent at least two hours on the hand-sewing on this dress (2 episodes of The Big Bang Theory, 1 episode of Chopped).

I do like how the hem looks with the pop of pink.

Where blue is the skirt fabric, and black is the bodice fabric, and red is stitching.

I also chose to practice my flat-felled seams on the shoulders and bodice sides. They're fairly unobtrusive in the sea of white, but I didn't feel like they would work on the skirt. The skirt went together quickly and quietly; I much prefer sewing tucks to darts, but the hip pockets feel weirdly tiny after getting used to my normal, huge, side seam pockets. I did this weird thing on the waist seam where I almost flat-felled it, but instead just finished the one side and stitched that down over the other, trimmed waist seam. Is there a name for that, or did I just make up a fake seam finish?

Not quite in focus, but you get the idea.

The last technique I tried on this dress was an arrowhead tack on the back vent. It's not a real vent, you know, the kind where there's an overlap and a little slanted seam; this is just a split where the center back seam stops. Given how violently I walk, I figured it could use some help holding together. I didn't use embroidery floss, as it seemed a bit like overkill; normal sewing thread seems to be doing just fine and suits the scale better.


After I finished the dress, I checked the weather forecast for San Francisco this Sunday, and it's supposed to rain. Of course it is. So I'm not even going to bother bringing this dress; instead I just quickly snapped some pictures downstairs outside the apartment building.

My first experience with hip pockets!

It looks okay as long as you're far away and the lighting is kind of dim.

And it wasn't until I was going through the photos that I noticed it -- the dreaded nipply bust dart. Curse the dim light in my sewing room that let me miss that in my multiple fittings! A quick googling revealed that even the esteemed Gertie has had this issue before; that made me feel better instantly. More googling unearthed a helpful tutorial for fixing my darts, and a brief stint with my seam ripper and sewing machine produced this:

Also note how invisible my stitches are for the bias facings!

Not entirely fixed, but much better. I think the problem with this pattern is that there's only the two giant darts, and so all that width needing to be taken out of the waist kind of necessitates a pointy dart. When I curved the seam to fix some of the pointy-ness, it ended up making the bust a little too large, since less fabric was being taken out in the dart. Rather than futz with this pattern to get it to work, I think I'm just going to be lazy and stick with my TNT bodice pattern, M5845, and just modify the armholes and neckline to work with the sleeves and all.

Or would that be a swayback adjustment? Or a sway booty?

Summary:
Fabric: 100% cotton, with tiny white dots, for the top, and 50/50 cotton/poly blend tablecloth for the skirt (this is the same fabric I'm using for my pair of bodies, which I'm pretty sure is anathema to real corsetiers, but it was the only fabric I had that wouldn't stretch)
Notions: a 22" cream-colored zip, seam binding on the hem, bias tape for finishing the neck/arms
Techniques used: Slipstitching, flat-felled seams, arrowhead tack
Hours: Five-ish, but mostly because of the hand-sewing.
Netflix queue: Lost in Austen, and the aforementioned TV episodes
Will you make this again? Almost certainly not. Besides the bodice dart issues, I'm also not happy with the fit of the skirt in the back -- I lack a booty to fill it out. Actually, I may use the front of the skirt with the hip pockets again.
Total cost: $4 for the zipper and bias tape; the fabric was donated, and therefore free.
Final thoughts: I guess when you start out feeling meh about the fabric, it's not surprising when the final dress is just so-so, too. Also, I don't really like how this is supposed to be a sheath dress, but it's not actually fitted; I feel like it makes me look more rectangular than I actually am. Although, I think I would like this a lot better in a more wintry fabric, like a thick plaid or houndstooth something.  Maybe I'll try it again in a couple seasons when I've forgotten about all of these issues.

This picture, pre-dart-fix, pretty much expresses my sentiments on this dress: just meh.

I feel a little out of sorts sewing-wise; my last two dresses haven't made me very excited at all, and my Ren Faire outfit is taking too long to be able to sustain any sort of excitement over it. I'm feeling the need for something more retro, vibrant, fun, and me. Not that I am always retro, vibrant, or fun. But you know what I mean. Sooo...it's back to the crazy bedsheet stash! Also, I am totally recanting my vow to not make anymore dresses with fitted bodices and full skirts. You all are so right -- if it works, why stop? If the sewing police come to my door and demand to know why I'm not moving on as a seamstress, I'll go all sewasaurus rex on them and wave my pair of bodies in their faces with my ineffectually tiny arms.

Ignore my atrocious rendition of a clipboard, pen, citation, and badge. Also, this was a pun begging to be made.

Continuing in the theme of animal poems, and appropriate for my doodle:

The Riddle of the Dinosaur, by Bert Leston Taylor

Behold the mighty dinosaur,
Famous in prehistoric lore,
Not only for his weight and length,
But for his intellectual strength.

You will observe by these remains
The creature had two sets of brains,
The one in his head, the usual place,
The other at his spinal base.

Thus he could reason a priori
As well as a posteriori.
No problem bothered him a bit,
He made both head and tail of it.

So wise he was, so wise and solemn,
Each thought filled just a spinal column.
If one brain found the pressure strong,
It passed a few ideas along.

It something slipped the forward mind
’Twas rescued by the one behind.
And if in error he was caught
He had a saving afterthought.

As he thought twice before he spoke
He had no judgment to revoke.
For he could think without congestion
Upon both sides of every question.

O gaze upon this noble beast,
Defunct ten million years at least.

Written in 1912 (how appropriate, too, that we are celebrating this poem's 100th anniversary!), back when it was thought that Stegosaurus had an extra bundle of neurons in its butt to help control its hindquarters.

I Promise, Sewing Has Been Happening

It's not just been all making up ridiculous blog awards and drawing on the iPad here, it's just that the sewing I've done hasn't been photographable yet. The pair of bodies was coming along swimmingly (if somewhat tediously -- all those boning channels!) until I discovered that I was three bones short. And hardware stores aren't open round the clock, so I had to wait to get more cable ties. Also, does anyone else find it awesome that there are bones in my pair of bodies? I love sewing terminology!

I've also been working on my Easter dress, which I'm not even sure it will be warm enough to wear on Sunday, as I will be going back to The City for my brother's baptism. And everyone knows that, as Mark Twain never actually said, the coldest winter is a summer in San Francisco. What that makes April in SF, I don't know, but let's just say that my Easter dress is a flimsy little unlined cotton thing. But! It has sleeves! Of sorts. And it's got a slim skirt! So there you have it, at least it's not a repeat of every other dress I've made, ever.

Speaking of which, a hearty thanks to all of you who had such nice things to say about my failed Peggy dress, and who encouraged me to go on making the same type of dress if that's what suits my figure best. I'm still not sure what I think, as there's a tiny niggling voice in the back of my head that says if I'm not moving on to trousers and coats in silk and wool, I'm not progressing as a seamstress. If only the thrift stores here in The City of Culver City sold bedsheets made of more challenging and sumptuous fabrics, and not just cotton-poly blends! I do have one piece of very nice thrifted wool yardage, but it's just too daunting to think about just yet -- the pre-steaming, the thick seams, the fact that I would have to use a suitably nice lining and not just muslin, the unlikelihood of ever thrifting more if I mess up, and oh, that it's going to be summer soon? It's so much easier to just sew up fun sundresses that average $5 apiece. Tanit-Isis was right, this is the absolute worst time of year to be swearing off sleeveless sundresses.

Please excuse my prattling. Here, have some pictures of animals behaving cutely instead (courtesy of our trip to the SD zoo for spring break):

Polar bear butt! *snicker* It's swimming with a bone!

Elephants hanging out in an awfully futuristic-looking enclosure. It looks like a Planet of the Elephants movie or something.

But if you zoom in, it turns out that the elephant on the left is actually telling a hilarious joke to the other elephant,
who is not amused at all.

Or maybe the elephant was just reciting some of Ogden Nash's ridiculously clever poetry about other zoo animals:

The Lion 
Oh, weep for Mr. and Mrs. Bryan!
He was eaten by a lion;
Following which, the lion's lioness
Up and swallowed Bryan's Bryaness. 

The Panther
The panther is like a leopard,
Except it hasn't been peppered.
Should you behold a panther crouch,
Prepare to say Ouch.
Better yet, if called by a panther,
Don't anther.

And lest you think I am too felid-obsessed:

The Praying Mantis
From whence arrived the praying mantis?
From outer space, or lost Atlantis?
I glimpse the grim, green metal mug
That masks this pseudo-saintly bug,
Orthopterous, also carnivorous,
And faintly whisper, Lord deliver us. 


I do love me some cleverly rhymed poems.