Button Confessions

I confess: I love covered buttons.

Well, truthfully, I love all fussy, hand made buttons. But since I have an embroidery machine, covered buttons are the easiest for me to make quickly.

Here's a set I stitched up last weekend:

Embroidered covered buttons, ready to cut out. I made more than I think I need because there was space in the hoop. And it never hurts to have spare.

My plan was to make these up using the technique I learned from Nancy Nehring and her book, but I only had twelve period accurate bone button molds. In the above photo you can see that I planned for twenty buttons. So I got a bunch of who-cares-what-they-look-like, slightly domed plastic buttons and went to town. Best to save my bone molds for when the center hole matters.

Instead of more authentic bone molds, I used cheap plastic buttons to cover.

I've used the packaged covered button kits in the past, with both fantastic and disastrous results. The old-fashioned technique, though, has given me consistent results, so I stuck with that.

Clip, clip, stitch, stitch. These go together pretty quick, for me at least.

It took me less than a day (stitching around my full time job) to make all 26 buttons.

Seriously awesome, right? And really easy.

These buttons are going onto my current project, which is getting its first wearing at the GBACG New York Society Tea next weekend. A full post on the outfit will come. Stay tuned!

Early 20th Century Fat Bottom Purses

OK, I confess, I'm a lazy blogger.

I haven't posted in a while, not because I've been too busy to craft, but because I just haven't felt like it. I know, terrible. In fact, I've been ding quite a lot of crafting, mostly knitting and on and off mad sewing.

Here's something I finished since my last post: a pair of silk clasp purses that I've assigned to the early 20th century.

Silk purses with brass clasps and chains.

I got it into my head to make a clasp purse over -- *ahem* -- two and a half years ago. I need more period hand bags, and I hadn't made a purse on a frame before.

They're shaped with a fat bottom to accommodate plenty of stuff.

I was enamoured with a fat bottom shape, and made these large enough for my on-the-large-side phone.

It fits a sub-phablet phone in a bulky case.

Of course the clasp had to be big enough, too.

Yes, my phone is a Tardis. It's bigger on the inside.

So, I bought the materials and embroidered the sides, and (like many of my projects) put them aside.

Fast forward to last fall, and I'm trying to clear off my work table. I finally sat down and threw these together. Though after so long, and despite having the pattern I drew handy, I forgot that I had given them a 3/8" seam allowance. So, well, their shape is not exactly what I had intended.

Exterior is duchess silk. Interior is taffeta. Brass frame and chain, rayon embroidery, glass beads.

The outsides are duchess silk and the insides are taffeta. The clasp and chain are brass and the embroidery is rayon.

The one without the fringe is going to Lynn McMasters, who made the beaded fringe.

One unfinished project done, umpteen more to go!

Manhattan 1950s Ballgown

Hey look! I've been sewing! Yeah, go ahead and say it: "what, you still do that?!"

Yup, I had a good excuse. I got invited to a swanky, black tie wedding in New York City, and decided I should go 1950s, full, bell skirt and all. Or at least 1950s-inspired, since I don't really know that much about the 1950s. I really didn't feel like going shopping for something new, and equally didn't feel like just pulling something out of the closet. And what the heck, I sew, so off I went. Now, I've known about this wedding since March, and, of course, only really started planning about a month and a half beforehand. And stitching? Started about three weeks beforehand. But I got on the plane to NYC with a wearable gown, only plus some basting stitches that you can't see anyway (and less a whole lotta sleep).

Below is the story of this gown, from the initial design to the wearing, including some serious dressmaking drama that I know all of you that do this sort of thing are intimately familiar with. This is a very long post, so grab a cup of coffee and get comfy, or just skip ahead to the photos.

The Design

After some surfing I decided that I wanted a gown that looks like a certain Lyn Ashworth wedding gown, dissected here by me (you can find a photo of it on one of my Pinterest boards here):

Analysis of a wedding gown by Lyn Ashworth. The gown consisted of a satin bodice with a dropped waistline, gathered chiffon skirt over at least one additional layer of skirt, and a sheer overbodice down to the mid-torso and with forearm-length sleeves. Not illustrated are fabric flowers at the waistline and on the shoulder.

I decided to go with navy, appropriate for an evening wedding in a hotel and in stark contrast to bridal white. Fabrics were easy: duchess satin for the bodice, chiffon for the outer skirt layer, taffeta for the under skirt layer, and organza for the overbodice thingy. Trick was finding all those different fabrics in the same shade of blue. I lucked out at Thai Silks, which had the navy blue I was looking for in chiffon and charmeuse (which isn't satin but has the same shine and when flat-lined with organza would have similar body). I went with their navy taffeta also, though it has a noticeable yellow cast that isn't present in the other fabrics -- under the chiffon it wouldn't really matter. The organza I knew I could get from Pure Silks.

But I wasn't done yet with the design. I've had in it my head for a while to do something in the vein of this Alexander McQueen gown, worn by Jessica Chastain at the 2012 Oscars:

Jessica Chastain in Alexander McQueen
at the 2012 Oscars.
Photo by Glamour Magazine.

McQueen did a whole line in this style, which you can see most of in one of my Pinterest boards (just scroll, you can't miss them). But that's a lot of embroidery, even by machine, and I had limited time. Not to mention that I was just going to a wedding, not the Oscars. And you can see there's an obvious clash between this look and the design of the gown.

But I wanted embroidery, so I figured I'd do the embroidery first and then decide what exactly I'd do with the overbodice thingy. For the embroidery I went with patterns by My Fair Lady, who sells through the website Secrets of Embroidery. As I've mentioned in earlier posts, I rarely digitize embroidery from scratch. That just takes too much time, and it's a lot faster to just work with designs digitized by someone else. Granted, it's tough to find period-appropriate designs that can pass for hand embroidery (depending on the embroidery technique, it's sometimes just impossible). But for this gown it didn't really matter.

The Undergarments

Strapless gown means some kind of strapless support. Frankly, all the strapless and/or backless bras I've worn in the past kind of suck. I debated corsetting (not quite the right silhouette) and building a foundation into the gown (didn't really have the time for that). I decided to just see what I could find online, and happened upon What Katie Did, a shop that reproduces vintage undergarments. Their "Glamour Merry Widow" was just what I was looking for:

Postcard courtesy of What Katie Did, showing the merry widow similar to the one I bought from them (mine isn't as long). My figure isn't as "vivacious" as the model's, but the merry widow sure does show off what I have!

The full skirt I was shooting for also required some kind of support. I figured, heck, I should be able to buy a crinoline petticoat; after all, there are plenty of folks who dress in vintage, and plenty of modern bridal gowns call for skirt support.. So I tried and tried to find a ballroom-length crinoline petticoat. I found plenty of bridal petticoats, but the ones that had anywhere near the shape I was after all had hoops. I even bought one, and it'd be great for doing an 1860s era gown, but it was just WAY to full for what I had in mind.

A four-hoop bridal petticoat I bought on eBay. It has a great shape for the 1860sbut it's HUGE and too rigid for the 1950s.

So, I gave in and made a crinoline petticoat:

Ballgown length crinoline petticoat I made in a day. The first layer is a cotton A-line skirt with three rows of nylon net ruffles, gathered to the yoke. The second layer is about 215 inches of nylon tulle, also gathered to the yoke. The hem of the first layer has nylon horsehair braid in the hem for additional uumph.

I quickly drafted up a yoke from a skirt pattern I had laying around, and used a shorted version of the lining from the Vogue pattern I discuss below to make an under layer. I gathered three rows of nylon net with the gathering foot for my sewing machine and attached them to the under layer, which I did in cotton to avoid having anything scratchy around my legs. I then gathered about 215 inches (in circumference) to the yoke, both for more fluff and to soften the humps from the net. The cotton under layer also has nylon horsehair braid in the hem. The end result is floof but with softness. I'm pretty happy with the result.

The Pattern

I could have patterned this gown from scratch, but again, I really didn't have the time. Conveniently, Vintage Vogue has a pattern that was almost exactly what I needed, except the neckline, which was easy to change:

Vintage Vogue 1094

I modified and mocked up just the bodice, and here is where I have to tell you: it is NICE having friends who sew. I had a great deal of difficulty getting my dress form into the merry widow at the same proportions as myself. The dress form, a Uniquely You, and I have -- ahem! -- strayed from each other in size over the course of the last decade. I ran over to Ms. G's house and she and Ms. H did an excellent fitting. A week later (and one week before the wedding) I did a second fitting in the gown's lining with Ms. H and Ms. S and BAM! had a perfect fit. Or so I thought.

The Drama

In my rush to finish this gown I made an essential mistake. For the gown's lining I used a linen-cotton blend for its weight and breathe-ability. But guess what? Linen and cotton, alone or in combination, stretches a bit on grain. Silk, especially organza, DOES NOT.

With a zipper pinned into the left side seam I could squeeze into the lining after the second fitting. So, I went ahead and embroidered the front and back pieces (stitching through both the charmeuse and organza as well as heavy tearaway stabilizer -- I did NOT want any puckering in the stitches!); basted the charmeuse to the organza; cut out the pieces; sewed up the darts; attached front to back; attached both skirt layers; set in the zipper; and tried it on...

...and it didn't fit.

It didn't find by a lot. I was at T-minus two days before leaving for NYC, and there was no way I could make the bodice fit, even by letting the side seams out as much as possible. Though now would have been an appropriate time to throw the damn thing into a corner in utter frustration, I calmly evaluated the situation. The front fit great, with the side seams in the right place. The back (which went through the most fitting changes) was just too narrow from the waist up. I was starting to see how the gown would look when finished, and I just couldn't give up. There was nothing to do but to redo the back.

I added nearly two inches to the side seams, in an angle from the waist. I cut out a new lining first, to make sure the back still fit smoothly. It wasn't really a big deal to re-embroider the back, and once again baste the organza and charmeuse layers together. The tedious bit was detaching and re-attaching the gathered skirts. That done, and zipper pinned in, I tried it on again...

...and it still didn't fit, but this time it was only by barely half an inch. I let both side seams out as far as they'd go, keeping in mind that I still needed to put in the lining, and tried it on again...voilá, it fit.

The lesson learned here is this: do your fittings in fabric with the same amount of stretch as your fashion fabric. Or don't, but add ease to your finished, fitted pattern, or plenty of fitting allowance in the seams of the exterior of the bodice. I knew all of this, but in my rush figured things would just work out. Things did work out, but backtracking and redoing cost me many hours of sleep.

The Evolution of the Design

Even though I love the look of the McQueen gown, I decided to go with a much less ostentatious amount of embroidery. That amount of embroidery just wouldn't have been right for this particular gown. Along the way I also decided that covering the embroidery with a sheer fabric was silly. My sewing buddies agreed, and the overbodice disappeared from the design.

But I didn't want a purely strapless gown. It would've looked fine, but just wasn't what I was going for. So, while the above drama was going on, I patterned out and stitched up a sleeveless, crew-neck bodice that only went down to the underbust line and opened center back. I wanted the center back to gap, and so closed it with only one button at the top, with a second false button for symmetry. In an episode of min-drama, it took me an hour to make both covered buttons; I put a layer of cotton under the organza exterior, to hide the shiny button dome, and all that fabric is a tight squeeze behind the button back.

The Accessories

The complete ensemble must have accessories, of course, starting with shoes.

 

Satin pumps by Nina.

I found a just PERFECT pair of satin pumps, which were pretty darn comfortable and in a height that I'm pretty used to wearing.

I also needed a clutch, just something large enough to carry my cellphone, a room key, and lipstick. I found this on Etsy:

Purse by RokkiHandbags on Etsy.

The purse is lined with cotton, closes with a magnetic snap,
and has a number of card pockets.

Yup, it's an old book cover converted into a clutch purse. The book here is The Ruling Passion by Henry Van Dyke, copyright 1913, which I have never heard of, but I thank his publisher for the color and layout of the cover, which now has a new life as a purse.

And I absolutely ADORE it. Not only does it match the dress just right, and not only is it just the right size for what I wanted to carry -- it's funky, clever, and unique. I love products that have a flair of different about them, that take a wild detour away from mainstream. This purse is exactly my style.

The Finished Ensemble

The evening before I had to get on the plane I did the hand-stitching required to set in the lining (but left behind some basting stitches) and wrestled a hem onto the taffeta layer (the chiffon layer got its hem earlier, accompanied by a great deal of swearing). I even managed to pack before collapsing into bed.

Here's the finished gown, photographed after I got home:

And here's the dress in action. I had my hair and make-up done at a local salon, with astounding results: my hair remained perfect and comfortable for over 10 hours! I also had a fun game of "find the bobby pins" at the end of the night; I pulled 29 out of my hair. The salon was Miano Viel, if you're interested, and my stylist's name was Rebecca, who gets my hearty recommendation.

The dress has quite a few "oh well, I'm just going to have to live with thats" but as far as I'm concerned, the dress was a success by virtue of having been wearable by the time of the event. I did receive quite a few compliments, so I must have done good. Best of all: it felt really good to be stitching again! So, stay tuned for more to come.

P.S. if I ever, propose working with chiffon again...just shoot me quickly and put me out of my misery.

Powder Blue Parasol, Part 1

I've been embroidering again. This design is for the parasol I mocked up in this earlier post. One of two, actually, since I'm going to do two versions of this parasol.

Oh right: that's what the umbrellas are all about. The frames are pretty darn good for converting into Edwardian-era parasols.

This design actually has a cutwork component, but I've enlarged it so much that I don't trust the cutwork area (the wedge shapes) to be stable.

Here are all the panels, stacked up and ready to sew...but that'll have to wait for later.

I'm following the philosophy of: if you can find  half hour to do a little sewing (or blogging!) DO.

Restored Parasol, c. 1900

There's nothing like a deadline to get you hopping on a project, right??

I needed a parasol for an outdoor event today...then, of course, today was completely overcast and verging on RAIN, so the parasol stayed home. Poo. Ah well, at least the parasol is now DONE.

This parasol's canopy was originally the subject of this earlier post I wrote, outlining the process of doing a large machine embroidery. The base fabric is medium weight linen, and the embroidery is cotton quilting thread on top, polyester sewing thread underneath.

I bought the frame a number of years ago, and it came to me completely bare, except for the  disintegrating remnants of silk wrapping that padded the spreader joints. These I removed and replaced with scraps of linen from the canopy. The frame also had rust around the top, and a little at the rib tips, which I painted over, partly for aesthetic reasons and partly to avoid the rust from spreading. The handle is some mystery wood and the shaft is a single piece of bamboo.

Since I was in a rush, I was just going to finish attaching the canopy and use the parasol. Buuut I couldn't leave well enough alone, so I also finished the "rosette" above the slider, and the "scrunchie" around the finial (I've made up those terms; I don't really know what they would've been called for real).

In reality, the most challenging part of restoring this parasol was that it was missing the cap that parasols often (but not always) have at the top of the finial. I sacrificed a slightly expensive (but real metal) pen to make this final cap. I'd like to find a better solution, but for now, this will do.

The parasol's handle didn't need any work. I cleaned it, back when I bought the parasol, with some wood furniture cleaner, but have otherwise left it alone.

So what's with the date of this parasol? It's really challenging to pin a parasol to a precise year, let alone an exact decade. There are a number of factors that one can use to establish a date (such as the rib construction, the style of spanner joints, the overall length, and the size and shape of the canopy), but when it comes down to it, there was never only one style of parasol in existence in any given year. Sure, there may have been a general look that was in fashion, but within that look there would have been plenty of room for variation, and who's to say that someone didn't offer styles that were just not in fashion It's not like the 1890s or 1910s had only ONE style of shoe. We know that just wasn't true.

Anyway! By my estimation, this parasol might have been built anywhere from 1890 to 1910, so I've labeled it with a date smack in the middle.

Lastly: what have I learned from restoring this parasol? First: the canopy is heavy. All the surviving canopies I've seen that aren't silk or lace have been fine, light cotton. Next time I do a canopy like this, I'll use cotton instead. Second: the "skirt" around the edge of the canopy doesn't really work. It tends to flip up when I open the parasol. I honestly don't think I've seen a skirt like this on a surviving canopy; skirts tend to be cut in crescents that leave the rib tips exposed. Now I think I know why!

18th Century Embroidered Pockets - On Etsy

I just listed four pairs of embroidered pockets on Etsy.

These are what were left from a workshop I lead at Costume College 2009, in which the class made pairs of pockets. I offered embroidered fronts as an option, and what the students didn't take I sold to friends and fellow costumers. These four have been sitting around as unfinished panels since then, and since I'm in a fit of housecleaning, I made them up and now they're on Etsy. Stop by and take a look...tell your friends...these gotta go!

If you're curious what all the designs looked like, I have a gallery of them at my website. I don't have current plans to produce any more of these — but you never know where my short attention span may land....

Machine Embroidery for a Large Parasol: Step-by-Step

I've gotten a couple of requests to explain the process of doing machine embroidery. In this post I'll go through the steps, using as an example the embroidery for a parasol canopy. Restoring this particular parasol is something I've been working on in fits and starts for years and hey, it's time to get it done.

To manipulate embroidery designs, I use a popular software application called Embird (www.embird.com). It's immensely powerful, and quite a bit more affordable than the software put out by the sewing machine companies. I can arrange embroidery designs right on my machine, but I find using a computer far easier, flexible, and more accurate.

For this project, the first step was to scan the pattern for the canopy's panels (the process of making the pattern isn't relevant here, so I won't get into it). I uploaded the scan into Embird, and created an outline of stitches out of it. This is so that I know what area to fit the embroidery into; I won't actually stitch out the outline in this case, because it won't fit into the hoop and isn't strictly necessary (it would merely be handy).

Outline of the canopy panel (blue triangle), over the hoop (tan area), in Embird.
It doesn't actually fit in the hoop, I'm only using it to figure out how
to place the designs. I'll erase the outline from the final design.

Next, I picked the designs I want to have go onto the panel. These designs are from OESD (www.embroideryonline.com). I use purchased designs whenever I can. I've created designs from scratch before (a process called "digitizing") but doing so can be very time consuming. So, I try to find patterns that will do the job before I consider digitizing something from scratch. Here, I already had these patterns from earlier projects, so only had to pick what I wanted.

The design contains five purchased elements (four pictured here) from OESD.
Since I already had these elements, I didn't need to digitize any from scratch.

The next step is to arrange and duplicate the design elements. I shrank or grew the elements to fit the space, both of which can be troublesome. The software is good, but not perfect. When you grow a design, it may not increase or add stitches quite right, which creates distortions. When you shrink a design, it may not reduce the stitch sizes right. Shrinking is more difficult, because it can result in super-dense areas that can't be stitched out. Here, I had to futz with the rightmost elements, to shrink them and reduce the stitch count (and the oak leaves still ended up too dense. Oh well.)

When arranging these elements, I tried to place them so that the jumps between them are really short or insignificant. My machine trims jump stitches on the right side, but not on the wrong side. Thus, jumps on the wrong send will get stitched over, making them harder to remove. So, since I need the wrong side to look as clean as possible, I tried to keep the jumps short.

At this point I checked that trimming codes and stop codes were in the right places. This design is all one color, so I wanted no stops. I also made it trim almost all (but not all) the jumps.

You'll also notice fine blue and red lines running down the middle of the hoop. These indicate the right and left areas of the hoop. With this large hoop, the machine stitches all of one side, then all of the other, so the design needs to be placed such that stitches from one side don't overlap into the other.

The finished design. I grew some elements and shrank others to get them
to fit the space, checked the trimming and stop codes, and checked
the left-to-right placement in the hoop.

Normally, you would now check that the design is ok, by doing a stitch out, on scrap fabric, of all or part of the design (it's a good idea to test elements you grew or shrank). I confess to being rather impatient with this project, however, and forging ahead.

The base fabric for the canopy was a medium weight, cream linen.

The base fabric for the canopy: medium weight, cream linen.

For the top thread, I used a cotton quilting thread. I figure this approached what might have been done historically. Also, it has a slightly heavier weight than sewing thread, closer to that of rayon embroidery thread (but without the shine of rayon). For the bobbin I used a poly sewing thread. Generally, I embroideries come out better if the bobbin thread is really light weight, and thus there's specialty "bobbin thread" for machine embroidery. As far as I know, however, it only comes in white and black, which wouldn't work here, since I expect the back side of the embroidery to be seen.

Left: poly sewing thread, for the bobbin.
Right: cotton quilting thread for the top.

The next step is to hoop the fabric and stabilizer. Since I expect the wrong side of the embroidery to be seen, I used a water soluble stabilizer underneath the fabric.

Layering order when hooping: lower hoop, stabilizer (water
soluble in this case), fabric, and upper hoop.

And away we go!

The machine goes to work.
For the first panel, I hung around and
kept an eye on it, but after the first
I wandered off and did other things.

After one side finished, I rotated the hoop and continued on the other side.

After one half is done, rotate the hoop
and do the other half.

And now the whole thing is done.

Finished front side.

Finished back side.

Before I popped it out of the hoop, I trimmed any remaining jump stitches on the front side, and also the jump stitches and dangly threads from the back side. Leaving the fabric in the hoop keeps it taut and makes this step go faster. My favorite tools for trimming are a pair of long tweezers and short thread snips: the tweezers raise the thread from the fabric, and the thread snips can get close to the surface of the fabric.

Tools for cleaning up extra threads: tweezers and
thread snips.

Once I cleaned up jumps and loose threads, I removed the fabric from the hoop, I trimmed away extra stabilizer, re-hooped, and started the next repeat. I was stitching along the selvedge edge of the fabric, so once I had four repeats, they went into my kitchen sink for a short soak, and then over a rack to dry; once dry, they were ready to cut out.

Four panels getting a soak to remove the stabilizer.

And that's it!

Except: I need the other four panels to complete the canopy.

This, it turns out, is a large design, with over 55,000 stitches. Frankly, that quantity of stitches takes a long time to stitch out. I also learned that with this large hoop (the largest that fits the machine), the embroidery arm moves more slowly than it does with smaller hoops. Thus, each panel took a veeeery long time to stitch out, approximately THREE hours of stitch time. That's stitch time, which excludes time to change bobbins, rotate the hoop, and deal with broken threads (It happens. Often. You learn to live with it.) And I needed EIGHT panels!

I had wanted to finish this parasol before a certain date. I totally failed. So, I say lesson learned: pay attention to the stitch count! I could have simplified the design, and some areas are still too dense, which didn't cause problems but means the time wasted on unnecessary stitches.

I'm going to wrap this project up soon. As of this writing, I still need the eighth panel. I also need to do the restoration work the frame needs. When all of that is done, I'll report back. Stay tuned.