Buckram: Not just for books!

Continuing on with my 17th century ensemble, I did not get as much done today as I had hoped due to mechanical issues related to my sewing machine. I can say that taking apart the tension assembly, re-calibrating it, and oiling all the moving parts has seemed to fix my problem for now… But I’m afraid that my trusty machine that I’ve used—nonetheless abused—as it was the first machine I learned on for the past 14 years, is now on borrowed time.

The bodice shell I have constructed is based off of the V&A example I posted about in the prior entry, which consists of two layers of canvas, carefully placed buckram pieces, and light boning. I have chosen to use heavyweight linen, a moderate amount of boning, and full pieces of buckram on each of the two front pieces, since I need a bit more support than the average woman of the 17th century. The interior of the bodice is machine-sewn, as I have less than a week left to finish this dress, and as someone with carpal tunnel issues, I am really not fond of hand-sewing garment interiors, with the obvious exception being nicely-laid linings. I believe that sewing—especially historical sewing should be accessible and enjoyed by all, and if a machine aids that process, then great!

It is unclear whether in the original example if the bodice was designed to be worn over a set of stays, but I am of the opinion that it would have been unnecessary; as minimal as the bones are in the original example, I think that an extra set of stays would have been overkill considering the short-waisted nature of this style of bodice makes heavy modification of the torso shape unnecessary. During the later years of the 1630’s and into the 1680’s, the tight-waisted nature of the dresses had stays integrated into the bodice foundation for many of the more formal gowns, but as not many surviving examples exist, we must look to primary sources and extant examples for evidence. One such surviving dress with full-boning is the famous silver tissue dress currently housed in the Fashion Museum in Bath.

Silver dress portrait

Silver Tissue Dress, 1660 (Image credit: National Maritime Museum/ Royal Museums, Greenwich/ Fashion Museum, Bath)

As an aside, I looooove how the National Maritime Museum used this dress in an exhibition related to Samuel Pepys’ diary. Read more about that here.

Today’s progress:

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Boning channels sewn, pad stitching placed.

I have pad stitched down the front of the bodice in the empty gaps where no boning is placed; in the V&A example, there is similar pad stitching holding the buckram pieces down. But as I sewed the channels through all layers, I found that the stiffness of the buckram was fighting with the highly tensile linen layers and caused some bunching issues. The pad stitching helped tack the buckling down and turned the unsightly bubbling into an evenly distributed layer. I find myself slightly amused that this bodice—fully lined in buckram—holds the contents of the wearer in the same way that buckram used in book arts does for the contents of the book.

The bodice will be boned with extra-large cable ties, as I have found that the large cable ties and whalebone feel very similar to one another. When I first discovered this while examining original whalebone in bodices while working in museum collections, both myself and my wallet breathed a collective sigh of relief; my cheapness is period! The only caveat to zip tie boning is that I recommend replacing them every few years; plastic off-gases over time depending on environmental conditions and can discolor your fabric and anything it touches. I’ve yet to have this happen, but after working with various plastics in archives and museums, it’s amazing how synthetic materials can really do some nasty things. That being said, for costuming, I am team zip-tie all the way.

To prepare the cable ties for insertion, I recommend cutting them to length with a cheap pair of heavy duty scissors, donning a vapor mask/respirator, and sitting in a well-ventilated area (or outside if possible). Then, cut each of the corners to round out the shape, and hold the very tip of the edge over a flame. The plastic will quickly melt and soften the sharp corners and within about 15 or so seconds, it should be ready for placement within the stays!

Presto!

Tomorrow, I assemble and bind the bodice, cut and sew the silk exterior, and maybe start on the sleeves…

A Hollar-inspired dress for a grand party

Well, it has certainly been quite some time since I have last made an entry—nonetheless sewed! (Ahh, graduate school.) But as I have been approached by my boss to make and wear an ensemble for the Grand Reopening of the William Andrews Clark Memorial Library, as well as run a booth on early modern material culture, I naturally agreed to do so with much excitement; because geeking out over material culture is something I simply live for.
As I wanted my ensemble to reflect the early modern holdings within the Clark Library’s collection—many of which are printed matter and manuscripts from the 17th century, I naturally looked to one well-known set of bound plates that has proven indispensable for Caroline and Stuart-era costume research; Wenceslaus Hollar’s Ornatus Muliebris Anglicanus. 

A few weeks prior, I had stumbled upon this volume of plates in the stacks, and Hollar seems to follow me everywhere it seems. It was as if the the universe (or Hollar’s ghost) was screaming at me to summon up enough resolve and finally make wearable dedication to my most beloved era of costume history; the late 1630’s, as I have been yearning and meaning to do for the last few years. For the sake of this project, I have decided to not stick with a faithful reproduction of a single plate, but draw up my inspiration from these two plates in particular:

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Loving the jacket-style bodice and falling band on the left, but I also love the muted simplicity of the one on the right…

Another inspiration is this painting of Queen Henrietta Maria by an unknown artist after Van Dyck:

Copyright Warwick Shire Hall / Supplied by The Public Catalogue Foundation

The lace! the pearls!

I could seriously get lost in the 17th century. But as I’ve spent most of this week stumbling about in imagery and research-ville, I had to get seriously started on this.

I have acquired 7 yards of heavyweight dark silver silk taffeta, and a few yards of look-alike bobbin lace for the falling collar:
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I am basing this bodice after the fantastic and rare 1630’s example in the V&A, and patterned out in Susan North and Jenny Tiramini’s Seventeenth-Century Women’s Dress Patterns v.1:

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I am however taking some liberties: I will not be slashing the silk since most events I do are outdoors and it would be liable to snag. I am also on the fence over whether I want to have open tabs or a closed-peplum style with gores.

While the bodice itself is a simple construction of only 3 pieces (two fronts, one back) I have spent the majority of today trying to get the fitting just right—which I must say, is a hard thing to do when you’re full-figured and drafting from an extant example. I will have to draft my own stomacher (easy-peasy) as none have survived with this dress example. Maybe I will add some pearl swags in the style of Queen Henrietta…

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After 7 attempts, we have a working foundation! Hurrah!

More to come tomorrow…