Victorian Sporting Jacket: A little something comfortable

Early in December, I was struck by the desire to make up a jacket or basque to go with this beautiful walking skirt I had been planning. I had the most luscious olive green wool for the skirt and I had been sitting on it, figuratively speaking, until the time was right to make it up. After a bit of a crusade and questioning my friends for advice, I finally found some rather bold plaid fabric that I thought would work.

My initial plan was to make up a sleeved version of a vest I had made last spring. I love this pattern and found it so easy to work with in the past. However, I was a little intimidated by the sleeves. I thought they might be a bit too much for a person of my size and stature. I found myself waffling on how to alter the sleeves and make them less, well, poofy. I moved onto other projects, namely a vest for my husband, and decided to wait on the jacket and skirt once more.

Then one of my aunties surprised me with a fabulous pattern for Christmas. It's part of the Laughing Moon line of historical recreation patterns, and I was immediately eager to make it up. I made my corset last spring from one of the Laughing Moon patterns so I knew that the size would need some adjusting but that it would go together beautifully and that the instructions would be both marvelously complete and informative. Once New Year's day had passed and things settled around the house, I dove into my project.

I knew right away that I didn't have quite enough of the plaid fabric to fill out all of the basque so I decided to track down a little coordinating fabric for the collar. I trotted off to dear old SAS fabrics where I thought I might be able to find something cheap but good for the project. I then ransacked my stash of scraps and fabric to see if I could find something suitable for lining. Since I had committed to the 2012 Fabric De-Stash Challenge, I wanted to use up a good bit of things on hand. I happened to have a lovely dark green rayon-poly blend that I thought would do nicely for the lining and picked up this rather odd shade of gray-green corduroy at SAS.

I washed everything, did some ironing and got ready to cut into my fabric. (Last year's massive Victorian sewing project explosion taught me that pre-shrinking and ironing are not to be skipped.) I have a few tricks now for cutting out my fabric but it still tends to be one of the most time intensive parts of any project for me. I think, partly because I find it so boring, it just seems to take longer than everything else. I measured myself carefully and tried to adjust the pieces appropriately; however, I found later that I still made the jacket a bit too large over all.

Both the corduroy and the plaid fabric were a dream to work with. The plaid was 100% cotton and had a very nice hand. The corduroy, well, it's anyone's guess what the fabric content was for that fabric, but it had good body and cut out very nicely. The lining fabric was, frankly, something of a disaster. As I cut, I did not realize that it was slipping and sliding ever so slightly. When I matched it up to flat-line the body of the basque, these little errors were easily adjusted. Mostly they showed in an uneven length for the lining. The collar lining, however, was another story entirely. I'm still not sure how I got everything to match up for a decent finish. I'm glad to say that I used up all of that green fabric and will never, ever have to sew with it again.

One of my favorite elements of the jacket or basque, as it was properly called, was the back pleats. I thought they were quite stylish and gave it that 19th Century sporty feel. When I was looking at the pattern originally, I thought the pleats might prove the most challenging element of the jacket construction, but I was entirely wrong. They went together splendidly. A little tailor's chalk, a little ironing, a few basting stitches and voila, beautiful pleats! They held up very nicely during wear, as well.

In order to make my fabric stretch, I decided to not only make the collar out of the pretty corduroy but also the side panels. I thought that might give a slightly steamy feel to an otherwise very traditional approach to the basque. I outlined the contrasting panels in black piping to give it a sharper contrast and a bit of a military uniform flair. Once all of the bodice pieces were sewn together, I attached the dreaded collar. Fortunately, after all the trouble of sewing the lining and outer fabric together, the collar attached very nicely to the bodice. I did find that I had to adjust the pining a few times to get everything symmetrical, but in general, the bodice and collar went together very quickly.

Now that I had only the sleeves, hem and fastenings remaining, I did a quick test to see how the basque fit. I was pleased to note that it went on like a dream and hung very well. However, I was unsure if I had made it too large--oh, I had!--or if it would snug up a bit better once I had fastenings in place. I did take in a bit at the armscye as things tend to be too big across my shoulders as a general rule. I had the strange gap that I often get from bust to armscye but I opted not to put a dart in because I was suddenly worried about historicity. (I think I briefly lost my mind or was somehow possessed by the History fairies.)

At last I started putting together the sleeves. They were rather different than anything I had put together before as they had a forward curve drafted into the pattern. I thought that might be awkward to wear but I did not change the pattern. I was very careful, however, to make sure that I had my forward curve actually going forward when I set the sleeve into the armscye. I decided to add military inspired cuffs to the sleeves before I set them in. I used the same corduroy and black piping. Having never added cuffs to anything before, I sort of re-invented the process for myself. They turned out rather nice for a first time venture. Setting the sleeves into the armscye went very smoothly. I did my gathering stitches by hand which can be tedious sewing, but I have found easing quicker that way. There was a lot to ease so I wanted it to happen as painlessly as possible.

Rather than the traditional hem the pattern called for, I used some black double fold bias tape to bind off the bottom edge. I thought it would pick up the black piping and continue with the military feel. Once that was done, a rather quick process, I had the tedium of attaching the fasteners. The pattern called for hooks and eyes and I was happy to comply as I assumed it would be rather less tricky than lining up button holes and buttons for a double breasted jacket. However, I found this to be the least satisfactory part of the process. The only guidance for the hook and eye placement was to use as many as would make the jacket secure. I used quite a few but ultimately not enough when it came time to wear the jacket. I immediately planned to re-visit the question of fasteners in the near future.

The basque pattern had a self-belt which I cut out and prepared in the corduroy fabric. However, I had an opportunity to wear the basque in public before I finished the belt. Like the fasteners, I planned to consider the belt and buckle in the future. Since I intended to change the front fasteners, I decided it was best to wait to complete the belt until that problem was solved. I wanted them to be thematically in keeping with each other.

All in all, the basque was wonderful to wear. I found it quite comfortable, and since it did not require a corset, I simply wore a tank top underneath and used a wide leather belt to help secure the closures. The Saturday I debuted the jacket was rather warm for a Tucson January so I found myself very glad of the absence of layers and the cotton fabric. It provided several hours of comfort while walking, talking, and in general moving as a modern woman. I thought it looked rather nice, too. I shall be looking forward to adjusting those fasteners and wearing it in the future. (I would love any advice on the fastenings, by the by. There is nothing quite so helpful as additional, fresh eyes.)

~La Cucitrice

A Look at the Beginning Part 3

The final part of this costume took rather longer to make. I knew exactly what I wanted: the Shinrone gown. At the time I was putting this costume together, information about the Shinrone gown had just hit the internet. There were a lot of hazy details, a handful of tutorials, no patterns and fewer pictures. Still, having just made a leine by hand, I thought I ought to make the proper dress.

Since this was going to be along term project, I went through several permutations of overdress for my costume. My first overdress was this kelly green number that I purchased ready-made. (I may still have it packed away somewhere.) The dress was made out of cotton broadcloth and used plastic rods instead of metal boning in the bodice. Not featherweight plastic boning. They were those plastic dowels one might use in the garden. They certainly kept their shape but they weren't exactly... comfortable.

Having determined that particular overdress would not wear very well for any long period of time, I invested in a very nice bodice and skirt combination. I learned a great deal from this bodice and the woman who made it. In fact, I spent several years working for her selling her clothing at the Texas Renaissance Festival and Scarborough Faire outside of Dallas. It was at that time I discovered the joys--yes joys--of spring steel boning. (Once you have worn plastic dowels for bones, spring steel is a revelation.) I discovered, too, that a properly fitted bodice or corset would not be an uncomfortable garment and would provide all day wear.

Once I had seen, worn and sold well made bodices, I began to experiment with making my own to wear. An Elizabethan-style Renn faire bodice was certainly much more straightforward to make than a reconstructed Shinrone gown, but making them was good practice for tackling the more challenging project. Indeed, I made quite a few bodices before I sat down with my deep navy plaid wool to make my version of the Shinrone gown.


With a little holiday break before me once again, and with a little more confidence and knowledge of the sewing machine, I started the final piece of the costume. My reconstruction, ultimately, looked only slightly similar to the actual Shinrone gown, but I was happy with the final look. In the original gown, rather than bones, fabric strips, sewn down at an angle under the bust, provided the support and shape. I went with bones in part because I knew they would work and in larger part because at the time, the descriptions I read on the internet were vague enough to leave me utterly confused on the construction front. (I am more of a visual learner, especially when it comes to garment construction.) For added strength and support, I added a lining made out of cotton duck. Once I was done with the lining and the light boning in the front, I found the bodice quite snug and flattering.


My intention was to pleat the skirt into the bottom of the bodice and then tack the lining closed over the raw pleated edges. Ah well, the road to a completed costume is often paved with good intentions. I discovered that I had made the bodice rather shorter than I intended and that pleating the skirt into the bottom edge as I had been planning would make things a) rather short even for my stature and b) give a fairly strange waistline. To improve things a bit, I added a waistband--something not even remotely hinted at in my research into the Shinrone gown--and pleated the skirt onto the waistband. I then attached the waistband to the bodice and completed the inside by hand tacking the lining over the sewing line at the top of the waistband. Everything was looking rather nice and neat on the inside at this point. I then folded up a simple 1 inch hem and hand stitched that in place.

The garment was nearly done, and I was eager to wear it. However, in the intervening time, I had made some new friends who were rather more informed and interested in period construction techniques than I. My plan--oh silly plans!--was to set in grommets as I had done with all of my bodices at this point. These friends convinced me that for such a dress to go with such a shift, I ought to do my lacing holes by hand. So I proceeded to hand stitch each lacing hole. It was rather tedious, but they have lasted over the years and through quite a few wearings. At long last the costume was complete. I was very pleased to wear it and to brag a little about its construction.

Many other costumes I have been happy to pass on to someone else when I outgrew them in taste or when I changed size, but this costume continues to be one I love very much. Even though the dress shows signs of moth attack--I'll get you moths and your little dog too!-- I shall likely foist it off on my grandchildren someday.

~La Cucitrice

A Look at the Beginning Part 2: In Which I Abuse the Humble Parantheses

In my previous post, I wrote about my first costume project, the Irish shift, which I created entirely by hand. At the end of that project, I was pretty anxious to learn how to use a machine. I was also somewhat nervous. I hadn't had the best experience trying to learn as a teenager and I was more than halfway convinced that I was incapable of using a machine. Fortunately, I have some amazing women friends and one of these friends, the very dear Mrs. Fuzzy, took me under her wing.

While I was studying at the University of Texas in Austin, I frequently spent my spring break visiting Mr. and Mrs. Fuzzy. The break immediately after I made my Irish shift was no different. I packed myself into the intrepid little Escort, Frank, that I drove in those days. I rather think Frank enjoyed the open road and certainly managed the spring break road trip every year with quiet panache.

That break I packed the rest of the beautiful linen into the car as well as the Irish shift so I could show it to Mrs. Fuzzy. This was back in the days before Tumblr or Facebook or even MySpace. (It was also back in the days when I was just figuring out that crazy thing called email.) If I wanted her to see the project, I either had to take it to her myself or mail pictures. How much more fun to share my project with one of my costume mentors and to then ask her help with the skirt!

Mrs. Fuzzy was an excellent teacher. Not only was she very happy to share some tips and show me the basics but she was one of those teachers who could stand back and inspire one to attempt the scary new thing just learned. (Indeed, Mrs. Fuzzy still has this capacity in abundance.) There was no watching over her shoulder while Mrs. Fuzzy sewed up my skirt. Oh no, indeed! She sat me down at her serger and her sewing machine. (Incidentally, that was the first and last time I used a serger until this month.)

The skirt she helped me make was a very basic draw string affair. We had died the fabric a beautiful saffron as a nod to the research on historical Irish costume that talked about the saffron shirts. Being a still rather active Goth at the time, I wasn't willing to wear that much yellow, no matter how luscious, close to my face nor in that quantity all over my body so I had chosen not to dye the shift saffron. Even though it quite scandalized my color preference at the time, I thought I could manage a saffron skirt. Now I am quite glad I went with that color. I think it provides a nice bit of contrast for the ensemble.

Once the fabric was dyed, Mrs. Fuzzy showed me how to finish the edges of the fabric and sew up a couple of seems. Essentially we used two panels of saffron linen to make a huge tube. The serger was involved. Mostly I have this vivid memory of adrenalin coursing through my veins and an intensity of purpose as I stared at the blade next to the needle. Well, if anyone ever said sewing was for the faint of heart, they were wrong! There is no garment construction without a little faith, a little bravery, a little fear, and sometimes a huge portion of bravado.

We left one seem partially open near the top so I could wear pockets underneath. Then we turned over the top and bottom of the tube to make a drawstring casing and hem respectively. It was extremely easy construction and yet, sewing each seam myself on Mrs. Fuzzy's machine, I had this sense that I could make anything! It was as if the world of sewing machines had opened before me like some costume making paradise. (In my naivete, I thought that, once I knew how to make a straight seam, I didn't really need to know anything else to make clothes.)

When I drove back to UT at the end of my visit, I left with one of Mrs. Fuzzy's spare sewing machines in the trunk of Frank the car. (I used that machine until it died the final death of old age, probably aided and abetted by horrible neglect on my part.) I was eager to get started on the a boned bodice and over-skirt to finish the ensemble and I had the most delightful blue plaid wool just waiting for the project.

~La Cucitrice

A Look at the Beginning

Long ago, in the far remembered past, I embarked on the tremendous adventure of making my own costumes. (Well, alright, it was my early 20s.) I knew how to sew by hand but I had never tackled anything with a machine. I had seen them used by all of the women in my family, and yet, I had never learned their mysteries. Indeed, my one lesson with my mother was rather disastrous.

I was, however, rather fearless about these things in my 20s and determined that I would make my own costumes. I had a mental picture that I wanted to see in fabric and I could envision every detail of its construction. I knew precisely how all of the pieces needed to come together; I simply didn't know how to join them with a machine. In my naivete, I started by hand. By the end of the project, I knew the basics of how to use a machine.

The project was simple and inspired by my then current passion for Celtic linguistics: I wanted an Irish Renaissance Costume. I am afraid that historicity and this costume only briefly touched at places. The rest was fancy inspired by what I saw at the various Renaissance faires that I attended while I lived in Texas.

The internet was a wild and wooly beast in those days. There was information to be had, but no Google or Wikipedia to help track down sources or cross reference. The Costumer's Manifesto was in its very early days of construction but a most helpful site. There I turned for much of my information.

I started with the shift or Leine and I used what information and images I could find on the wild wooly web at the time. (It seems opinions may have changed.) I found a tremendous deal on the most lovely linen at a JoAnn's in Austin. They were practically giving it away so I bought every last yard they had. Most of this linen went into making my shift and the majority of that went to the sleeves. (I recall that I made the lower portion of each sleeve out of a yard of fabric per sleeve. They are rather weighty little things.) I gathered the top of each sleeve into little tucks which I sewed down carefully by hand and then covered with long embroidered strips of linen. I worked on that embroidery for weeks. I even took it to my classes and embroidered between lectures. I carefully applied the embroidered linen strips with a hidden stitch that I ran under the folded raw edge. The linen was given to a bit of fraying so when I finished the sleeves, I folded over all of the seams and sewed them closed so the raw edges would be covered. I thought it looked a little nicer and would wear a little better.

Completely departing from all of the research at the time, I added my own touch to the body of the shift. I took several tucks under each side of my bust to tame the very full body of the shift. To my youthful eyes, all of that fabric just hanging there, untamed, was rather dowdy. Worse, it was unwieldy. I rather liked the tucks. They made me feel prettier in my pseudo-Irish shift. Initially the neck line was very high, and I embroidered a simple red chain stitch around the whole thing and created a sort of keyhole opening with a simple pewter Celtic knot clasp. However, my youthful need to feel pretty in my ensemble led me to making the neckline rather more daring. (Goodbye keyhole and clasp; hello cleavage!) I re-embroidered the red chain stitch around the new neckline.

I will not try to recount the many hours of sewing that went into this shift, but suffice it to say that every seam is done by hand. By the end of it, I was extremely eager to learn how to use a machine and to acquire one for the purpose.

~La Cucitrice

The Parasol of Doom

Almost a year ago, I started putting a costume together for the then upcoming convention, Wild Wild West Con. I hadn't been to a convention in years. (I think my last one was at the Camelot Hotel in Tulsa. As a lady does not reveal her age, I will leave it at that.) I was particularly excited for the Wild West Con because it was a Steampunk themed convention. I have been quite the fan of Steampunk as a literary genre for many years and had apparently been living under a cultural rock. Until that moment, I had no idea that there was such a thriving Steampunk community in my own state. I was most certainly inspired to construct what I hoped would be a wonderful costume!

Not being at all practical, I started with my accessories because the projects amused me and because they were easy to start and finish. I had chanced upon a wonderful blog called The Steamwench's Salon. There, our hostess and writer, had posted a wonderful parasol project. Utterly delighted by what she created, I decided to make my own. I had in my possession a beautiful vintage umbrella given to me by my dear friend, Mrs. Fuzzy. The umbrella was starting to look a little the worse for wear and I thought a make-over would really be in order. Beyond that, the handle was just so fabulous that I rather thought the canopy ought to better coordinate.

The Steamwench actually does employ her sewing machine in her project to create excellent results, but I, being the lazy creature that I am, decided there had to be some easier way to make my own parasol project. Accordingly, almost everything is glued on using Fabri-Tac.

I started by outlining the ribs with a dark brown woven upholstery cord. I tried to make the ends as neat as possible and get them as close to the metal point at the top of the canopy as I could. I had already decided that I would cover the top with some sort or decoration. My initial plan was that I would make a gathered ribbon cockade that I could wrap around the metal tip. Right away I discovered that it was quite a challenge to lay the line of glue without it running along the curve of the canopy.

Thanks to my cleverengineer husband, I ended up with a ironing board drawn up to my work surface to make a place where I could balance the parasol level to the floor. This way the glue ran down along the straight of the rib making for a cleaner process.





Fortunately, I had been warned in advance thanks to the wonderful work of the Steamwench. I knew that I needed to plan for some sort of closure for my parasol. On the last rib, I added a length of the same braided cord to serve as a snap closure for the parasol. I glued it down trying to make sure that the unfinished end was covered by the rib trim. I planned to sew on the snaps later.
My initial plan was to find some pretty velvet ribbon and the box please some grosgrain or something else lovely underneath it as the trim along the canopy edge. Lucky, lucky me, I found this most excellent trim at the shop that already had some lovely pleats under a velvet ribbon. This was also felicitous because I could not find any velvet ribbon on its own that I liked. Plenty of pink and white -- which would not do! -- but no brown or green or amber or... well any color that I liked for this project.

Now it was time to trim around the central spike. I made my gathered ribbon but when I added it to the canopy, even though it nicely concealed the raw ends of the rib trim, I thought it looked rather unfinished. After consulting with my dear husband, I found that he agreed with me and the search was on for something to top things off. We thought a bead of some sort might work or perhaps a little piece of metal filigree. We spent a couple of weeks searching for the thing. My husband was once again to the rescue as he found a really interesting wooden, well, bead for lack of a better word. It had just the right amount of curve to it so that it fit nicely flush when the canopy of the parasol was open.

Open final inspection, I decided my parasol needed one last finishing touch. On the search I went again. I looked through my stash of beads, ribbons, buttons, and broken jewelry. Nothing quite suited what I envisioned. It was while looking for buttons to complete another project that I spotted just the thing: little brown velvet ribbon flowers with a small beaded center. I procured just enough to sew one to the point of each rib at the edge of the canopy.

I was quite happy with the over all look and knew that if nothing else, I could protect my fair skin in style. Also, I felt certain that, if any ruffians tried to assault me, I could certainly beat them off with my very stylish parasol without fear of losing too much trim. It was also a wonderfully simple project that took only a few hours of time to actually make. There were quite a few more hours involved waiting for glue to dry and searching for just the right something to finish off the project. The only sewing I had to do was very simple hand work.



Here is a final view of the parasol extended. As you look, you might notice that this is the not quite finished parasol, but I think it gives a nice view of the overall effect. Alas, I have as yet had no opportunity to brandish the parasol at any scoundrels but I have used it on several occasions for rather excellent sun protection.

~La Cucitrice

Welcome to my Workshop

Please allow me to introduce myself. I am a self-taught seamstress with a passion for historical and ethnic costumes, beautiful fabrics, and hats. I have other interests in life, but since I intend this to be mostly a place to chronicle my sewing adventures, I shall focus on the pertinent details. As a child, I learned the art of embroidery and the basics of hand sewing. I found these skills took me a long way, but it wasn't until a very dear friend sat me down and showed me the basics of a sewing machine that my projects really took off. That was long ago, in my college days, and now I have come much further as I blunder my way through projects both easy and hard.

Not long ago a friend suggested that he and others might enjoy reading about and seeing my many projects. Though I have often shared images in other places, I have not made a habit of detailing my experience nor making these images widely available to my friends and family. Thus I have taken to heart my friend's suggestion and I am now embarking on this chronicle. I cannot promise to write regular posts as I will be recording my progress on a project by project basis but I hope they shall be moderately amusing posts when I do share them.

I sew when the mood strikes me, when inspiration hits, or simply when an interesting opportunity to wear a costume arises. I would like to say that I am more disciplined than that; alas, I am a capricious seamstress. However, I love my craft and among the things I love best about my craft is sharing ideas, learning from others. I hope you will indulge me in this pursuit and I hope that you will find some small enjoyment in my projects.

I will begin with some older projects that are documented through photography and mix in more current projects as I complete them. I may at times vary from project driven posts to explain the motivation or spark that leads to a particular item.

~La Cucitrice