#secondgenaznproblems

Did you know that May is Asian Pacific American Heritage Month? I actually had no idea until one of my former students posted it on his Facebook page...but now that I know (even if it is the end of the month!), I'm glad that I've been learning more about Anna May Wong for real, and not just fake-pretending to dress up as her. It's fascinating for me to learn more about the experiences of very early immigrants and second-generation APAs, mostly because that's not my family history at all. My parents both came to the US shortly before I was born, so it's not like my ancestors helped build the Transcontinental Railroad or anything.

You know how Facebook goes on these random kicks once in a while where everyone changes their profile picture to their favorite cartoon character, or the celebrity they look like most? It's too bad I didn't know about Anna May Wong when the latter rolled around, since if I had to say, I probably look more like her than Lucy Liu*, the only other well-known Chinese-American actress out there.  

I know that I was very fortunate to grow up in San Francisco, which boasts a huge percentage of Chinese-Americans. I experienced very little racism and never felt conflicted about who I was or which culture I identify with, because so many of my peers were just like me, with a foot in both worlds and somehow managing to balance those. It wasn't until high school that it even occurred to me that not every city was like mine! All those YA novels about Asian-Americans growing up in hostile environments and the struggles they had felt thankfully far removed from my own life. The more I grow up and the more people I meet, of course, the more I realize how difficult the Asian-American identity is for some. Still, living in California, I mostly don't notice my minority...but it does pop up every now and then in the strangest ways!

I was reading up on vintage sewing machines and ended up perusing the comment section over on Peter's blog regarding hand-crank sewing machines, and suddenly had a fit of jealousy over all those lucky people who had sewing machines sitting in their grandmothers' attics. Being the child of immigrants, our house doesn't have an attic (that is unrelated to the immigrating, actually) and our garage only has boxes of our old Chinese school homework and math workbooks (not even lying!). No vintage sewing notions, and certainly no beautiful old treadle machines! And even though my mom sewed prolifically as a young lady, none of those clothes have made it to me, since it's impractical to cart a handmade wardrobe over the Pacific ocean to a tiny apartment in SF. And since my grandparents grew up extremely poor, I certainly don't have any heirloom Edwardian wedding gowns!

The closest thing I have: my mom's 1970s qipao. 

So even though I love being Asian-American, and am proud of my heritage, sometimes, a very tiny part of me wishes that I were white, if only so that I could inherit all these treasures from generations past. I also wish this a tiny bit when I think about dressing up in historic clothing, as I'm pretty sure that my great-great-great-whatever didn't wear gorgeously embellished 18th century frock coats or huge swishing hoopskirts. I also don't know too many other APA bloggers who are into vintage sewing or historic fashion, and I definitely don't know any in real life, so sometimes I feel a little bit like an anomaly.

Not quite a robe l'anglaise: my mom took me on a trip to China as a high school graduation present, where I got to wear a tourist trap dubious polyester Qing dynasty robe at the Forbidden City. Yeah, that doesn't even fall into the same category, it's so different. Also, ignore the date at the bottom -- apparently nobody ever bothered programming the camera! 

Then I remember that I make geeky dresses from thrifted sheets, and I think that there are probably bigger reasons for feeling like an anomaly, and I like it that way.

But oh! for a gorgeous vintage Featherweight!

*I came across this interview with Lucy Liu, and it's kind of sad how similar things are, even after 80+ years. It's still just as difficult now for an APA to get a leading role as it was when Anna May Wong was a star in the 1930s. And then there are projects like this one that reveal just how little people know about "others" even in this day and age.

[And hey, on a totally different note, if you haven't added your knit stashbusting project to the May link party yet, go do it. You've got til Sunday to get in on endless fame and fortune bragging rights if you win the challenge!]

A Year of Fashion Illustration Classes

For the last school year, I've been taking fashion illustration classes at Canada College in Redwood City. This is the same community college where I took Pants Drafting & Construction, Bustier, Copying RTW, Intro to Theater Costuming, and Textiles. In fact, the professor for this class is the same as the textiles class, and she is basically everything I would've wanted to be in a different life: an illustrator, knowledgeable about the chemistry of textiles, and a teacher! And what a teacher -- I haven't taken a serious art class in more than fifteen years, when I took an introductory drawing class my senior year in high school because I dropped out of second semester AP Physics. That was all about shading and stippling techniques and I think I drew a pretty awesome pine cone, but that's about all I remember. And before that class, the last time I picked up my paintbrush to do a serious painting was in eighth grade. Even then, I was pretty lost because my teacher's instructions basically consisted of "get your paintbrush wet and then paint until it looks good."

The one painting from that era that I don't cringe at was copied from a calendar when I was in a horse phase. I don't have any real pictures of it, but I found it in the background of this picture from Thanksgiving four years ago. My parents still have it hanging in their dining room, bless them. 

With that background, it was like an epiphany when our prof actually gave concrete instructions on how to proportion figures, illustrate different fabric types, and use various media effectively. As I told her on my last day of class, I feel like a whole new world has been unlocked for me (you know, because I needed more types of hobbies that involve a cabinet of supplies). No more staring enviously at other artists' illustrations and wondering how they knew how to do that; now I can do it too! Er, kind of.

Last fall, after several weeks of drawing stick figures, blocked figures, various body parts, and types of fabric, our first assignment was to put all of it together to do a black and white drawing. I drew a 1920s-inspired figure wearing a beaded flapper-ish dress and holding a fox-fur stole. It's funny, I was so pleased with it when I drew it, but looking back at it now I see so many mistakes!

Her right shoulder is too high and her pose looks a little awkward. 

The next assignment was to do a figure in sepia and/or monochromatic pastels, i.e. not a lot of color, but shading and texture as a focus. I went for a 1930s look, with a drapey bias-cut satin dress and huge fur coat. In contrast to my first assignment, I still love everything about this piece.

In the category of draw what you know, most of my figures read as Asian. 

The third assignment was an illustration using colored pencils, so we were supposed to choose nubbly and textured fabrics to render. I illustrated what was meant to be a boucle wool coat with tweedy trousers. This was my least favorite piece from first semester, which at the time I attributed to the medium, but it's funny because I ended up using color pencil a lot during second semester. I think I just didn't know what I was doing yet. Also I went overboard on the background. Or maybe I just didn't like it because it wasn't a vintage look?

I realized that the white hair made her look a lot like Ororo Munroe, so in a late night, last minute decision I added in the background, then hated it. I've gotten too used to being able to Ctrl+Z everything!

Our final project was a watercolor illustration, and I went with an Erte-inspired Art Nouveau figure. Despite a mistake on the shading of the draped folds on her dress, I still love how this one turned out, mostly because of the cheetah. This was the illustration that made me fall in love with watercolor as a medium; I realized I could actually control the moisture in order to get the color to do what I wanted, instead of letting the moisture control me. It's amazing what a good teacher can help you achieve!

I debated whether or not to take Advanced Fashion Illustration during second semester, because I knew I was going to be super busy with prepping my AP students for exams, plus the inevitable exhaustion of pregnancy and the continued demands of caring for a toddler. I'm so glad I did it, though, because I was able to build on my momentum from first semester, and who knows when I'll be able to take another class? It took two years for me to carve out time for myself to take these classes after having SHB, and he's a fairly easy kid, so I figured I should do what I can while I still can.

We started the semester by drawing more "extreme" poses (read: more attitude) and working on profile and back views. This was my attempt at a Poiret-inspired cocoon coat (something I definitely want to make one day, if/when I find the perfect velvet fabric) from the back, using pastels and color pencils:

Backgrounds: not my strong suit. That tree is just sad. 

Then we experimented with timed drawings, where we used brush pens to quickly capture a figure's style and movement. Unlike my previous pieces, these poses were based on fashion magazine photos since the limited time didn't allow for coming up with and perfecting my own figure poses.

Working on more stylized drawings in fashion illustration class tonight. #nomorethanfiveminutes #nomorethanfifteenlines #sohardtoletgoofmyperfectionistside #letitgoooo #tryingtochannelmyinnerelsa 🤷🏻‍♀️❄️🌬

A post shared by Cation Designs (@cationdesigns) on Feb 9, 2017 at 9:27pm PST

We also spent a class period playing around with acrylic paints in the Stipelman technique, where, according to our prof, you just smoosh paint around until it looks good. I somehow ended up painting a pink wedding dress. I don't even like pink.

The first official assignment was to render four different types of fabric. I did a floral jacquard, an iridescent silk dupioni, a gold-flecked acrylic sweater knit, and a lovely ombre organza that had little colorful crinkles in it.

My silk dupioni rendering looks too dark because of how the light hit the fabric sample. Doing the jacquard was lots of fun though!

I seriously love this fabric; it's hard to appreciate the gold flecks until you see it in person and the light hits it right. I'm really pleased with how I captured the fuzzy boucle-ish texture though. This outfit is based on the actual costume I created for our high school's production of post-apocalyptic Antigone. One day I'll get around to blogging those costumes...

My inspiration for this figure/outfit was a combination of Zac Posen's 2016 Met gala gown for Claire Danes and the announcement of Noma Dumezweni's casting as Hermione in Harry Potter and the Cursed Child. I had this lovely iridescent organza with periwinkle in it and I imagined what Hermione's head-turning Yule Ball gown could've been. 

The next assignment was a fashion illustration portrait, where we were supposed to focus in on the face, which we hadn't really done before, while still illustrating at least part of an outfit up close. I chose to illustrate Anna May Wong, whom I've blogged about before, in her iconic Travis Banton sequined dragon dress.

I based the pose on this photo. I love how the sequined dragon turned out, but got carried away when doing the fabric at the bust area and it makes the dress look much less fitted than it actually should be. Also her face got too slim and doesn't look so much like Anna May Wong as it does my mom...

Then we spent several weeks working on an advertisement using a fashion figure; I really didn't want to spend that much time working on a random fashion line, nor did I have a business I really wanted to promote, so I ended up making a propaganda piece instead, for International Women's Day! I figured that I might as well advertise for something I actually care about, i.e. women's rights, and not a perfume or handbag.

I really wanted to capture the feel of teens-era women's suffrage posters, with the Art Nouveau-inspired font style and the vaguely military/heraldic imagery. I used an actual slogan from the women's suffrage movement on the banner.  

Our final project was to put together a presentation board with the technical flats, specs (measurements), photographs, and illustration of an actual garment, as if we were trying to sell/manufacture it for RTW. I chose my Roaring Twenties dress, as I figured that it would involve relatively few measurements, and since I came up with the pattern on my own, I could say it was really MY garment that I was showing off.

Even though taking these classes made for a hectic year (hello, late night drawing, rushing home from work to drive across the bridge in time for class, and extended screen time for SHB while Mommy finishes up last minute cutting and mounting on the days assignments are due!), it was so worth it to be able to make beautiful art again. I remember being in college and having an Elfwood account (anyone remember that site?) and marveling at their artists of the day and being so blown away by the art of Stephanie Law and Anke Eissmann especially, and wondering if I would ever be able to draw anything that beautiful. I've still got a long way to go, but art like that feels achievable instead of impossible now.

Take That, Jeb Bush!

It's not Asian Pacific American Heritage Month until May, but indulge me here and allow me to get on my soapbox for a spell.

Right before we moved away from TCOCC, I was on a roll with Historical Sew Fortnightly challenges. I was only working part time, I lived near the LA Fabric District and FIDM and its inspirational garments, and I had plenty of creative energy. I was actually in the middle of making my rich lady pirate ensemble (completed the coat, waistcoat, and shirt, still need to make pants and a cravat) when we moved, but then I started working full time again and then we were house-hunting and then I got pregnant and then I had SHB...and now here I am two years later, finally getting back into things. The HSF has turned into the Historical Sew Monthly, which is definitely an easier time frame, and I've been stewing this idea in my mind for almost a year -- plenty of time to do research and more research and then some thinking and wait, better do a little more research just in case!

What made me decide to finally take the plunge and get to sewing? Well, I'd already been thinking about sinking my teeth into a non-knit project, but then Jeb Bush went and lit a fire under my tail with his comments about "anchor babies" and Asian-Americans. While I have been fortunate to grow up in San Francisco and attend public schools with large APA populations (unlike many APAs, I have never had to be "the Asian kid"), I have definitely experienced my share of othering statements like "No, where are you really from?" and "Wow, your English is so good!" I've sat through more stories of that-one-time-I-went-to-an-Asian-country-you-look-Asian-so-you-probably-want-to-hear-about-it than I care to remember, and when it's time to play the what-celebrity-do-you-look-like-most game, most people would probably just default to Lucy Liu because she's the only really well-known Asian-American actress (although there was also Anna May Wong in the 1930s!).

Just yesterday Mr. Cation and I tried to think if there were any Asian-American superheroes (and not just the one-dimensional Asian Sexy Dragon Lady/Ninja/Bruce Lee Type tropes), and all we came up with were B-list heroes like Jubilee, Wind Dragon, and Dana Tan (who is not even a superhero, just a superhero's girlfriend). Granted, we're only semi-into superheroes, but that's still pretty sad. While I love that there are more APAs in diverse fields now (instead of the stereotypical STEM fields, we've got Margaret Cho, Elaine Chao, and Jeremy Lin!), there aren't many APAs who are just cool. Okay, I guess Jeremy Lin is cool if you're a teenage boy, but I mean cool like "full of thrilling heroics," not "I can put a ball through a hoop."

Source

So when I came across the mention of Hazel Ying Lee in this random HuffPo article about famous Chinese-Americans, I was intrigued. An APA aviatrix? Who served as a WASP in WWII?! How have I never heard of her before? Especially when she has the same name as my mom! Okay, that doesn't make us related or anything, but I'm still going to claim her and others who served our country (heeeeey look, this other aviatrix has the same name as my aunt!) as part of my Chinese-American heritage.  All this to say, I made some old-timey aviatrix jodhpurs.

And now, without the belt and boots so that you can see the waist and lacings better. In bare feet, I felt like some kind of weird hobbit-pilot. 

A close-up of the waist. I'm really pleased at how neatly it all came together!

This might be the nicest facing job I've ever done. 

And a look at the lacing on the outseam. 

The inside. I didn't finish my seam allowances, but that was somewhat common at the time so I feel okay about it. 

I looked at many, many extant garments from the 1920s-1940s, and since I've never felt tied to strict historical accuracy, I boiled it all down to just a few must-haves to really get the idea across: military color (either tan, brown, olive, or dark green), side openings with buttons, buttons or laces at the outside of the knee, and that patched-on reinforcement on the inside of the leg. I didn't have a pattern and didn't want to just use this cheater method, so I went uber-historical and drafted my own pattern following these original 1912 instructions, with additional help from this 1908 drafting book for clarification. That's a couple decades earlier than my aimed-for 1930s look, but I was hoping that maybe jodhpurs were one of those garments that hadn't changed too much. Here's what my original draft looked like:

Yes, I do my drafts on the back of wrapping paper.
It's cheap and large, and it's already got those handy 1" grids printed on the back! 

And after multiple fittings and modifications, here's what my final pattern looked like:

Except without the darts. 

A comparison of the original center back seam and my new center back seam. 

I ended up eliminating the darts and taking the difference out at the center front and back seams instead, because the darts just looked poofy and hideous on the stiff twill I used, and many extant garments (including Hazel Ying Lee's) don't feature any darts at all. Even so, the final garment is pretty unflattering to my modern eye. And if you're thinking that the above pictures looked fine, that's because you didn't see the back and side view...

Um. What. Can we say hello, excess fabric?

It's like I've got room below my butt for an extra butt. 

I realize that it's supposed to be baggier and roomier than modern pants, but looking at how some 1940s jodhpurs fit, I'm inclined to think that they did get at least a little sleeker between the two world wars. I desperately want to take out some of the extra fabric at the inseam, but it's faux flat-felled and there's that huge applique over it, so I'm just going to say this is a wearable muslin. Besides, if I keep it this way I can use it as the base for a wartime Lady Edith costume. I did end up purchasing this Folkwear costume pattern, based on a 1920s outfit from the Met, so maybe I'll give the slightly-more-modern jodhpurs a try in the future. Despite the unflattering bagginess, I'm actually pretty pleased with myself for actually making these. My brain definitely got a workout, what with the research and drafting and alterations! And of course, I couldn't resist pulling out my circa 2001 leather jacket for an even sillier non-HA aviatrix look.

Old-timey filter!

Anachronistic jacket and boots ftw! 

Summary:
The Challenge: Heirlooms and Heritage
Fabric: 2 yards of 54" wide poly-cotton forest green twill, fairly stiff and inclined to resist pressing, inherited from a friend's stash
Pattern: self-drafted, following original 1912 instructions, with modifications
Year: 1912, fudged into 1930s
Notions: Eight black 7/8" plastic buttons, 1" wide black petersham ribbon for the binding, black ribbon for the lacing
How historically accurate is it? I'm going to put it at 60%, since it's a real historical pattern, but from slightly earlier, and not strictly historical materials. I got as close as I could while sticking to stash, as I'm going for the look, since I'm trying not to spend money on this. Real jodhpurs from the 1930s seem to be mostly linen or wool, although there are a couple of cotton ones and this one is even a forest green twill! Four buttons for the waist seems to be standard, as is no yoke + facing + belt loops, but the button facings tend to be invisibly attached. The petersham binding should be replaced with twill tape, and the ribbon with actual lacing cord, per this very helpful examination of an extant pair.
Hours to complete: 12, but that's not including the research.
First worn: Just for pictures, and probably not for a long time, if ever. This was more a brain exercise project than anything, but maybe if they have a history day of sorts at school I could give it an outing? Although I'd have to make an aviator cap to go with it.
Total cost: $4 for the buttons, everything else was free from other people's stashes.
Netflix queue: Suitably enough, I watched Ken Burns' epic documentary The West while sewing this, which I heartily recommend not only for the sheer amount of information, but also because it touched on a little known part of Chinese-American history, the Chinese Exclusion Act. I know it can't compare to the long list of crimes committed against Native Americans, nor is it as awful as being enslaved for hundreds of years, but it's definitely one of those things that doesn't get covered enough in US History.
Final thoughts: While I didn't use any heirlooms, and these jodhpurs are only loosely part of my heritage, I think it's still fitting for this challenge. It inspired me to do a lot of research on a less well-known part of history and gave me a sense of pride in my APA identity. While I don't know that these costume jodhpurs will be passed on as an heirloom, I certainly hope that I can pass on that sense of pride in being Asian-American to SHB. I don't want him to grow up in a world that is suspicious of him because he might be an Other who's somehow "taking advantage" of the birthright citizenship amendment. Okay, I'm done politicizing!

And then I had a patriotism fail: I was trying to do one of those saluting poses like you see in the pin-up girl pictures from WWII, but I couldn't figure out why it looked so wrong. After some Googling, I realized I had actually done a "I'm shading my eyes while looking for someone" pose instead of a salute. *facepalm*

The Most Extra Lab Garment Ever

Apparently, when you take a non-elective class with the fashion department at Canada College, you are usually required to sew a "lab garment," aka something quick and easy to meet the requirements for lab hours and total number of garments sewn. This was the first time that I've had to do this, because somehow all my previous classes have been electives. The syllabus for my tailoring class said our lab garment should be something that goes with our coat, to make it into a complete outfit, but our professor said it could be anything. Most people made simple tops, some people made dresses from nice, well-behaved cottons, still others made easy gathered skirts from rectangles of fabric. I decided to be extra and make a 1920s-inspired evening gown to go with my coat. Also I was going to draft it myself. And I was going to use velvet. And I was going to add five yards of beaded trim that could only be sewn on by hand. And just to make things extra interesting, I wasn't going to bother making a mock-up; I was just going to just assume my draft was fine and try it on the week it was due, after all the work was finished and everything was pretty much irreversible. Maybe it's just as well my actual tailored coat was so simple.

In my quest to only sew my stash or secondhand fabrics, I already knew I was going to use this wine-colored stretch velvet leftover from costuming An Actor's Nightmare. I also had this lovely dark brown beaded and sequinned trim that I got seven years ago at the FIDM scholarship store, back when I still lived in The City of Culver City. I'd been saving it for a suitably glamorous project, and there was definitely no way I was going to do my own beading for a 1920s-esque evening gown, so it was the perfect time to use it.

I've used the armscye shapes from this dress before for my Anna May Wong dress. 

For my pattern, I started by looking at the shapes of pattern pieces from period publications, as well as the ones from Janet Arnold's Patterns of Fashion 2, and then sketching out similar shapes in my size as best as I could based on my measurements. Then I just made a V-neck in front and cut the back piece down the middle and folded some of it back to make the very low-cut V. For the skirt, I was pretty limited by what I could fit onto the remaining yardage, so they were just four vaguely A-line pieces, with more fullness on the back pieces. Because of the shapes of my remnants, I had to cut it with the nap going up instead of down, but I actually like how it looks richer and more luxurious that way.

You can see how tricky it was to fit my pattern pieces onto my remnants. I originally planned to have the deeper V on the front and the back to be cut on the fold with a scoop neck, but I couldn't fit that onto my fabric. I actually like my final arrangement better, since it allowed for fun back details. Also, laying out shifty fabric with both a cat and a toddler around is an exercise in patience.  

After attaching the pieces at the center front and shoulders, I cut facing pieces out of the stretchy black net remnants from my Ursula skirt, then proceeded to brace myself for many, many hours of hand-sewing on the beaded trim and tacking down the facings. Thankfully, Disney+ had just come out so I went through The Princess and the Frog, Cinderella, Sleeping Beauty, The Little Mermaid, and Mulan while sewing. I sewed the trim on the top first, then attached the skirt and added the waist trim and and skirt front trim. The hem is left raw, since with my limited fabric I didn't want to lose any length (that also gave me the excuse to not have to figure out how to hem the velvet without sacrificing its slinky movement...pretty sure I would've had to do more hand stitching to avoid a visible hem line).

Blurry nighttime shot of my facings pinned into place. 

Because the deep V of the back meant that the straps would try to fall off my shoulders, I wanted to add a T-shaped decorative something to help hold everything in place, like in this vintage dress. Fortunately, I was able to find these brownish necklaces at Joann's that were a perfect match for the beaded trim, so I rigged up two of them to make the back detail. Of course, the cut of the back and slit in the center front of the skirt meant that I had to wear this over a slip. I had grand plans to try making a bias-cut slip from some cotton sateen, but of course didn't have time. Instead, while thrifting for my school's drama production, I found a brown slip that matched nicely and was a good length. I do need to adjust the strap placement a bit, but otherwise it was a perfectly fortuitous find.

Oops, the tag on the slip is showing and it looks like it may have gotten twisted around a little bit, but you get the picture. 

A closer look at the beaded necklace detail on the back, and you can see where my invisible hand-picked facing isn't really that invisible around the armscye...

Summary:
Pattern: Loosely based on vintage garment shapes, but drafted for my measurements
Fabric: Weirdly shaped remnants of wine-colored 4-way stretch velvet that was originally 58" wide and 5 yards long, but had large sections cut out of it for a 1930s-ish evening gown; bits of black stretch net for the facings
Notions: 5 yards of 1.5" wide brown beaded and sequined trim
Total cost: Since the fabrics were all purchased for other projects, I'm counting them as essentially free. The trim was $1/yard, the necklaces were $15, and the slip was $8, so the whole fancy outfit was less than $30!
Would you make this again? Well, I do have a lot of beaded trim in champagne that I bought at the same time...but I think I would probably make a different look. As it is, I've realized that the shoulder straps are, sadly, a little bit too long for me. It's fine and wearable now, but it would be perfect if I could just pinch out half an inch at the shoulder seams. *cue tears* because of course all my trim is already sewn down. I doubt I'll ever bother with fixing it on this dress, but at least now I know if I ever want to use this draft again as a basis for another 1920s dress.
First worn: Again, just to class for pictures, but I'm hoping that now that we're entering the Roaring Twenties again, my life will suddenly, miraculously be filled with Gatsby-themed events to which I can wear this. *insert laugh-crying emoji here*
Final thoughts: I really seem to have a thing for making fancy dresses that I have nowhere to wear to, don't I? It's hard when I really like making pretty things but my life is really more about milk spills and cleaning up poop and putting away chemicals. But if I'm ever invited to a 1920s weekend extravaganza that requires multiple fancy dresses, I'll be all set!

Although when I think about it, I started making my fancy gentleman pirate outfit three years before I had an event to wear it to, or my Galadriel gown four years before reworking the sleeves for the LOTR symphony, so maybe in 2024 I'll wear this to the Costume College Gala or something...

June Round-Up

Can the year really be half over? School has been out for a while, and I should probably revisit my school year resolutions list, but in the meantime, have some random links that tickled my fancy this last month:

• This Cowbirds in Love comic. Cats and Star Wars and clever punning all in one! It doesn't get much better than that. Incidentally, if you enjoy punny comics about geekery and science (Sanjay is in med school, I think?), CiL is awesome.
• I know this article about JoCo is super old (at least in internet terms), but I still found it relevant, even if I'm just a sewing blogger. I'm really sewing for myself, but I still love seeing what my readers have to say about a particular project. Whenever I finish a big/popular project, I'm kind of ruined for a few days, trying to figure out what to do next.
• Trying to come up with inspiration for That's Sew Cinematic, I started wondering if there were any big Chinese-American film stars besides Lucy Liu. I don't know how I missed ever hearing about Anna May Wong, but wow, what a lady! Her story is heartbreaking, her outfits fabulous, and now I'm off to the library to find her films.
• If I could, I would just dream up and make costumes like this for a living. These are astoundingly gorgeous and just out of this world. 
• I've always thought hatting and millining were the same, so this article was a helpful clarification. And now I kind of want to take a millinery class!
• This little newspaper clip on preparing to sew made me laugh. I do not try to look my most attractive when I sew! If my husband comes home in the middle of sewing, more often than not I'm in my unmentionables for quick-and-easy fitting. I like Gertie's suggestion of wearing a lab coat, though!
• For those of you in VPLL's 1912 project, I stumbled across this pdf download of a book on Edwardian-ish-era underwear! It includes instructions on drafting corset covers and the petticoats and the like.
• For those of you who are into fashion history, I really enjoyed this slideshow of extinct birds dressed in fashions from the year of their demise. Of the birds, I only recognized the great auk, but I was able to place the approximate era of most of the actual fashions. Also, did anyone else think of this gown when they saw the Carolina parakeet? I know it's the wrong year, but it's remarkably similar.

By Brian R. Williams, from here.

• I really enjoyed reading Brooke's account of what it's actually like to work as a costumer. It's the kind of job I think would be amazing, and it turns out it is, but just with a lot of less amazing times in between the amazing ones. Which is kind of a lot like teaching, actually. 

I've finally finished my most recent sewing project -- a shirtdress! Unfortunately, San Francisco has reverted to its usual gray, overcast, faintly drizzly self, so I haven't been able to get pictures yet. I might have to just suck it up and freeze, though, like so many of you have to do to get Sew Weekly challenge pictures. Please forgive me for being a wuss...living in SoCal for so many years has spoiled me.

Lastly, thank you all for your kind reception of my mom's account of her time as a garment factory worker! My parents are out of town this weekend, but when they return I'll be sure to let her know you all appreciated her story. The fruitfulness of trying to explain blogging and subscribers again to my dad is still questionable, though...

Historical Sew Fortnightly: Flora and Fauna

While I like my feminine dresses as much as the next lady, never before have I sewn a frock that deserves so much to be called a confection. Between the chiffon overlay, the beading, the embroidery, and the lacy pink satin slip, this is definitely more frou-frou than anything I've ever sewn before!

I tried to follow American Duchess' 1920s makeup tutorial, but I don't think it worked so well...mostly because the idea of wearing that much eyeliner freaked me out. I don't usually wear any makeup, so when I came out of the bathroom, I think Mr. Cation was kind of shocked. 

Extremely anachronistic Nine West silver stilettos, because I don't own any other light-colored shoes. These are actually from my wedding, and this is the first time I've worn them since then! The feather clip on my head sash is also from my wedding, originally purchased at Claire's, and then my necklace is from Forever 21. Hello, "flapper" look from the mall!

I love the way the bottom hem turned out, even if I accidentally broke three needles on beads while doing it. I was not wearing eye protection because it didn't occur to me, since, you know, I wasn't actually working with steel boning, and one needle tip actually flew up and hit my cheek. Yikes!

I used to think that 1920s fashions were the most unflattering styles ever, what with the straight bodices with little to no shaping and the dropped waists. But just like 19-teens era fashion, Downton Abbey has won me over and I just had to make an evening dress that would be appropriate for a party in West Egg. Besides, the Great Gatsby movie's coming out this week!

To get the shapeless gamine look, I wore a sports bra underneath the slip. 

I actually used to hate The Great Gatsby as a novel, too, but a second reading, a decade after high school English class, really helps me to appreciate it a lot better. Something about not having to finish it, along with homework for other AP classes, and write an essay at the end...

It was so bright outside that the embroidery and beading got kind of lost. Here's a better picture of what it looks like in person. Much pinker than the outdoor photos!

I originally wanted to make an 1840s-ish gown for this HSF challenge, but decided that between Elaine's wedding preparations and the AP Exams, I should probably hold off on such a complicated project. I turned instead to this embroidered and beaded crinkle chiffon, which was originally purchased with the intention of making a Titanic evening dress when I was still in the middle of Season 1 of Downton Abbey. That never happened, but thanks to the progression of time in the Downton world, this is still appropriate for an evening dinner party there!

I decided that the sash tied at the side was totally a thing. For example, these extant gowns. 

To start with, and to ease myself into slippery fraytastic fabric sewing, I made a pink satin slip to go under the very sheer chiffon. Thanks to Lauren, the American Duchess, for the very easy tutorial!

1920s slips are not flattering, but I did my best to pretty it up. I was inspired by these two extant slips, which are much more elaborate, of course. I figured that it was okay since the slip would be mostly hidden.

To make the overdress, I started by looking at the 1923-25 evening dress in Janet Arnold's Patterns of Fashion. It's got no shaping (side seams go straight down, no darts) and is essentially a giant tank-top. I went with that general shape (but graded down for my size) for the bodice, but I was afraid that a straight-down side seam for the entire dress would be more unflattering than necessary. Fortunately, there are plenty of examples (from both sewing patterns and extant gowns) of straight bodices with fuller skirts, either through the use of godets or gathered rectangles. I didn't want to deal with either of those options because of the fussiness of my fabric, so I opted for a fraction of a circle-ish skirt, like these sewing patterns or this dress. I put together the front and back bodice and skirt pieces, then sewed them together at the shoulder and sides by machine, and finally hand-overcast the seam allowances to make them as unobtrusive as possible. The worst part by far, though, was trying to finish the armscyes and neckline with self-fabric bias binding; crinkle chiffon is the worst fabric ever, and yet I persist in using it for some reason. Even with all of Andrea's tips, I couldn't get it to behave! Between the crinkles, the general chiffon shiftiness, and the beads on the fabric, I ended up with the wiggliest bindings ever. To camouflage some of the worst of it on the neckline, I added a couple rows of extremely ugly beading. Yeah, I don't know what I was thinking.

You can see how crinkly the chiffon is here. Also my hand finished seam allowance, which almost turned into a rolled hem due to the lightness of the chiffon.

It's like I was drunk when I sewed on the beads, except I totally wasn't. 

Summary:
HSF Challenge #9: Flora and Fauna...I've got the flora thing going on in the embroidery, and I guess the feather clip can be the fauna? I didn't make the clip, though.

Fabric: For the slip and sash, 2 yards of dusty-rose polyester satin; for the overdress, 3.5 yards of 45" wide polyester crinkle chiffon in cream, embroidered and beaded with a floral pattern. I didn't include these in my stashbusting pledge pile, but both have been in the stash since Oonaballoona and I ripped off the FIDM scholarship store, so I'm pretty pleased to have used it.
Notions: Cream-colored 1/2" polyester ribbon for the slip straps, cream-colored lace from last year's Vintage Fashion Expo,  almost 300 silver bugle beads for the overdress neckline (which I've saved for six years...thereby rewarding my penchant for never throwing away any craft supply ever)
Techniques used: French seams on the slip, hand-overcast stitch on the overdress
Hours: About thirty? I don't even know anymore, I've been working on it so long. I managed to watch a good chunk of Earth's Mightiest Heroes, all of North and South, and listen to a whole bunch of Radiolab podcasts.
Will you make it again? Extremely unlikely. I'm pleased with the overall experience and dress, but I'm not in need of more 1920s evening dresses!
Total cost: Thanks to the FIDM's mistake and the LA Fabric District's prices, less than $15!
First worn: Just for pictures, but hopefully to see the movie when it comes out
Final thoughts: When I was walking out of the apartment to take pictures, I felt super glamorous, and as a bonus the whole thing is remarkably comfortable. I am incredibly pleased with this dress and how successfully I was able to get the general look of the era, despite the anachronistic materials and accessories! As for those who might turn up their noses at the polyester and less-than-stellar beading, well, all I can say is, "Whenever you feel like criticizing anyone...just remember that all the people in this world haven't had the advantages that you've had." In this case, that would be the advantage of beading lessons and a large enough pocketbook for authentic materials?

And because B&W automatically equals old-timey...I did my best to channel my inner Anna May Wong, despite the failings of my make-up application: