Robe á la Anglaise, 2012
A few years ago, in a
little fabric shop near Stockholm, I met with this supremely
lovely striped material which looks almost like silk (probably
it's a blend of viscose and polyamide). It was totally late 18th
century, and I just had to get it. 2012 saw the perfect occasion
for it: A ball in honour of the founder of my hometown, Gustaf
(Gustavus) III. Late 18th century styles in fashion and
especially in home decoration go in scandinavia under the term
"gustavian", and elegant striped materials in light tones are
considered very gustavian.
After musing over different 1770/80's dress styles I ended
up with my favorite, the ever-charming robe anglaise with
the skirts lifted to puffs at the back. Although I already
have one, making another would hardly be boring. My closet
has so far lacked a real fancy ball gown, and although a
polonaise is strictly speaking a day dress I thought that in
(fake) silk it would go as evening wear too - at least in my
not-terribly-period-correct world. The first step towards a
ball dress was to make a new, well fitting pair of stays
to wear with it. Having finally finished them earlier the
same year I could began planning the dress in earnest.
The Material
I had bought all that remained in the
bolt, hoping that I would get something out of it. How much I
needed was surprisingly hard to estimate as the stripes run
horizontally and the material was only 90cm wide. My original
plan was to make a separate petticoat of different, preferably
washable material if needed, which would also have been
sensible as the petticoat gets most dirt. But then again I
have so many jacket and petticoat ensembles that for once I
wanted a complete dress with a matching petticoat.
I calculated that I would have just
enough material for a polonaise and a petticoat if I used
something else for trimming. I was at first reluctant to give
up the idea of delightful striped ruffles, but after browsing
through several fashion plates I warmed to the idea of gauze
trimming.
By the way, I realized only later that at least the blue dress
above is a real polonaise dress, which has the robe fronts
hanging open over a waistcoat, not a closed front anglaise-type
of dress I was making.
As I intended the dress for
evening wear I decided to make them of silk organza, which was
also sheer enough to let the lovely stripes show through.
This, of course, banished any remaining hopes of washing it,
but I had already decided that I wanted one super pretty dress
in my comparatively sensible closet, even if I'd have to pay
for dry cleaning now and then. As as it would be a polonaise,
I could also make the petticoat ankle-length, which would to
some extent protect the silk ruffles from being torn and
gathering dirt.
Drafting
the pattern
My main pattern source was Janet Arnolds
"Patterns of fashion", and of course the cut was heavily based
on my first robe a la anglaise. I
had cut the back en
fourreau on that one, so now I wanted to cut the
skirt separate for change, a later cut which also went with
the 1780's inspired narrow stripe.
Inspired by the beautiful green polonaise
in Kyoto
Costume Institute's collection (FASHION, A History from the
18th to the 20th century, Volume I, pages 78-81) I moved the
back seams closer to the center back and drafted a new, more
pointed shape on the point of the center back. The front
bodice also got a narrower point. With the new, tighter stays
I also had to remove quite a bit from the center front seam
and make it slightly curved. I also lowered and widened the
neckline.
Following Arnold I
also added light boning on the bodice seams, which seemed to
work well on my mock up. Especially the bones running from the
sides of the neckline down to the tip of waist proved marvellous
in keeping the front straight, unlike in my first polonaise
where the lower edge tends to fold and crumple. Another great
thing was that the bodice didn't seem to move at all when I
moved, which is highly desirable with a low-cut decolletage.
The sleeve pattern was
also based on that of the polonaise number 1. I had remembered
the sleeve to be wider than it actually was, and possessed by
some mental disorder had actually first drafted it smaller this
time, which resulted in utter waste of mock up material. Having
quickly came back to my senses I returned to the original sleeve
pattern, only changing the sleeve end by removing the vertical
darts in the front and curving it more instead in order to make
pleating the organza easier.
This time I wanted the shoulder pleats more on the back of the
shoulder, and to get enough room for my shoulders (which tend to
curve frontward because I spend too much time crouching over
sewing and too little sitting upright wearing stays) I added a
bit on the front of the sleevehead. This of course caused the
sleevehead to be way too long for the armscye, and the extra
allowance wouldn't settle very smoothly on taffeta, but the only
other alternative was to make the pleats go too far on the front
of the shoulder, so I decided to give them a try. Another thing
that helped a bit in the mock up sleeve fitting was to rotate it
forward for about 1cm, which seemed to work well.
I had made the
mock up version and final pattern soon after finishing the new
stays in April, but it was July until I had time again to turn
my attention on this project. The only thing I had done since
April had been to begin hemming some of the organza ruffles. Now
I had my summer vacation and plenty of time to concentrate on
the polonaise. Thanks to my previous, carefully made final mock
up I was now able to work on the dress without having to worry
about the fit or leave room for alterations.
Sewing the dress
This time I wanted to try
a period construction technique in which the lining is made up
first and the fashion fabric pieces are mounted on it one by
one. It requires some hand-sewing, but seemed interesting and
what's more, an extremely strong and durable construction i a
very tight garment as the lining takes most of the strain. Your Wardrobe Unlock'd
has a wonderful tutorial on the subject ("c. 1775 Dress") by Serena Dyer which was
immense help in figuring out how it works.
So, for the first thing I attacked the lining. For it I chose
coutil instead of the more period-correct option of strong
linen, because I've become such a steadfast believer in coutil
lately. It's also thick enough to mask boning channels very
well. Coutil lining made the bodice quite stiff, but that can't
be a bad thing. For the boning I used plastic boning, as it was
slimmer than the cable tie I usually use. I'm not
perfectionistic enough for hand sewing lining, so it's put
together by machine. At this point I also sewed the hooks and
eyes on the front edges. At the quick fitting the lining seemed
to fit well.
I
had planned to cut the center back pieces on bias to get a
nice chevron pattern, but on the last minute changed my mind
an cut them on the straight grain as the stripes did form a
chevron v-shape above the waistline that way too. I cut the
next pieces so that the stripes would be evenly spaced at
the waist, which made the upper parts go more ramdomly. I
cut the front pieces on the straight grain (taken from
Arnold's pattern) so that both sides of the center front
point had a stripe in the middle. In the shoulder pieces I
cut the stripes to continue from the front piece so that the
seam would be almost invisible on the front side. I should
perhaps planned the cutting and matching the stripes a bit
more carefully, as we shall see later. Stripes teach you a
lot about cutting, and I certainly have much to learn yet!
I closed the center back seam on
machine and then basted the center back pieces on the
lining. Then I began pinning and mounting the other
pieces from the center back outwards. The stripes again
caused an added element of challenge, but luckily I had
cut the pieces with ample seam allowance as I had to do
some adjusting along the way.
I
tried to position the stripes with an even distance at waist,
and on the upper back parallel to the stripes on the center back
pieces. Despite all my efforts some broken stripes were
inevitable. The result might have been better if I had palled
the cutting with more care, but I confess I had been impatient
to get to the sewing phase even though there was no hurry.
Anyway, when I had finished I noticed that the pattern created
by the stripes camouflages my carefully drafted seams quite
completely. Well, at least I know they are there, right?
When mounting the front pieces I
noticed to my great annoyance that something was amiss:
If I matched the stripes symmetrically at the front
edges they ended up irregular at the side seams. I had
already had to adjust the pieces a bit at the back to
get both sides symmetrical, so prabably that caused the
stripes meet the side seam differently on each side.
This was particularly frustrating as one of them
happened to be perfect and the other one with a
half-stripe looked very tacky in comparison. The was
nothing to do about it anymore except perhaps rip all
the taffeta pieces off and begin completely anew, so I
decided to live with it. I consoled myself with the
wisdom of my Great-Aunt, who is reported to have made
the following comment regarding her decision to add a
gore only on one side of a crocheted vest that had come
out too small: "No one is ever going to look at at both
sides at once." (Sadly the Karelian dialect is lost in
translation.)
When mounting the front pieces I also added a drawstring
channel on the neckline from the shoulder piece seam to
the front edges. The drawstring gathers the neckline
just a bit so that it doesn't gap.
At this point I switched to the skirts. I used
all the material I had left after cutting the bodice
and sleeves, giving the dress skirt 3 meters and
leaving the rest 2,5m to the petticoat. As the fabric
was only 90cm wide and the stripe was running on the
weave my skirt length would thus be only 90cm, which
would as it would be worn looped up anyway.
The
petticoat, however, had to be at least of a decent
length, polonaise or not, and my transparent hem
ruffle wouldn't cover anything either. Thus I cut the
top of the back piece of white taffeta and added the
extra strip on the front piece. This fabric saving
trick was also commonly used in the period and the
patchwork is just covered under the top skirts even
when they are looped up. On the front the fabric join
would be mostly covered by by the dress bodice tip and
skirt fronts.
I had cut the back of the
petticoat about 20cm wider than the front to accomodate the
bumroll. I closed one side seam, leaving pocket slit on the top,
but left the other open so that pleating the ruffle would be
easier.
I had decided to pleat the organza
in box pleats. I reasoned that since pleating alone
would take considerable time, I could as well give free
rein to my perfectionish here (again, I had made so many
quickly done projects lately) and hem all the trimming
by hand. I could use a small running stitch which would
go fast. Well, it was relatively fast, but there was
over 30 meters of it.
I worked on the hemming throughout
the summer, as I didn't need all the different trimming
pieces at once. The sewing was okay but ironing the tiny
hem required a certain amount of patience that I didn't
always have, which explains the hemming width varying
wildly between 3mm and 6mm. I used silk thread, as in
most of the hand sewing in this dress (save parts that
needed a stronger thread), as it's so nice to work with.
The petticoat ruffle was 42cm wide and I had
cut it generously long. I basted a guideline thread on
the petticoat where the top edge of it would go, and
then began pinning the pleats. It was surprisingly
easy. Silk organza, which had been a stranger to me
until now, is totally different from it's (distant)
polyester cousin. It was a pleasure to pleat and the
pleats settled beautifully without any ironing. Pins
also stayed well on the densely woven material, unlike
in many sheer materials which seem to spit pins out.
Here the stripes also showed their good side, I could
easily make even pleating based on them without any
measuring at all. I pinned the pleats over the
stripes, making them a bit wider than the stripe to
get a fuller ruffle. I attached them with two rows of
stitching, the first one 1cm from the top edge and the
other 4cm below.
I left a
large gap on the pleating at the open side seam. I
closed the side seam, hemmed the seam allowance by
hand and finished the pocket slits. Then I measured
where the seam would go in the organza, trimmed away
the extra and finished it with a french seam. I was
sceptical at first how a machine sewed seam would look
in the organza, as my machine tends to crumple thin
materials, but the wonderful silk organza tamed my
machine and settled neatly with ironing. For the last
thing I finished the rest of the pleating.
I pleated the back of the petticoat into a waistband,
but left the front alone at this stage.
I was beginning to think that my old bumroll might be
too small to create the ultra-puffy look I was after,
and a bigger one might alter the balance of the
petticoat so that the front was better left unfinished
before I was sure what would go under it.
Next I moved on to the dress skirt. I cut the
front corners rounded and sewed a 15cm wide taffeta
facing on them. On the straight middle part I hemmed
the edge by hand. I had hemmed a 17cm wide strip of
organza, which narrowed towards the ends to 8,5cm. On
the straight middle part I pinned it by the stripes
width, but the curved fronts were a bit more tricky.
Measuring
by the stripes the pleat centers were spaced 2,25cm
apart. I had calculated the pleated strip to be
twice as long as the edge, and measured the shaped
ends accordingly. The problems began when I began to
pin the organza with a measure tape. My usual
pleating method is to pin box pleats at the center
and between the pleats, and then turn the sides
under, but now I discovered that this leaves a gap
between the pleats in the middle where the pin is,
which shows through in a tranparent material. The
pleats also opened in the middle, which I tried to
fix by adding an additional row of stitching in the
middle. Despite these problems I pinned and stitched
down almost all of the first front edge, but when I
looked at it again the next morning I had to admit
it looked awful. I decided to try a different method
on the other front edge and see if it would turn out
any better.
This
time I placed my pins between the pleats and then
formed the box pleats evenly between them. I also
pinned the middle and not just the edges at once,
which helped greatly to get the pleats straight.
This time I also used a ruler to determine the
placement of pins on the upper edge instead of
calculating, which gave a little different but
definitely more balanced layout for the curved
pleating.
Having finally
finished this front edge I found it much better
than the first one, so I ripped the pleating off,
ironed the needle marks away and remade it. Now I
was fairly satisfied with the result, although the
pleats still look a bit narrower than the ones
measured by the stripe in the middle. Like I
mentioned, my previous technique leaves a gap
inside the box pleats which makes them wider, and
of course the thickness of the material also plays
a part on the pleat width.
Next I began to work on the
sleeves. I lined them with off white taffeta and basted
vertical guideline threads for the organza on the center
front and back. I also basted the curving line of the
second stitching at the elbow, and of course the
pleating marks on the sleevehead. Then I closed the
fashion fabric sleeve seam on machine and the lining
seam by hand.
Pleating the organza on the curves sleeve was a bit
tricky, in fact even more tricky than I had anticipated.
Even pleating would probably have been impossible to
make as the transparent material betrays any
irregularity inside the pleats even if the top looks
even. I decided to pleat the top edge and the elbow and
leave the organza puff freely between them.
As the organza would have to be hemmed
beforehand I couldn't just begin experimenting with
pins. At last I ended up drafting a pattern for it by
scaling the sleeve twice as wide, leaving out the
elbow dart and straightening the curves seam (the last
thing doesn't show in the picture yet). I closed the
seam by machine into a french seam and hemmed the
edges by hand. Ironing the hem of the curved lower
edge was quite tricky and it ended up much more
irregular than the other organza hems.
I basted
guideline threads on the organza at the center front
and center back, and began pinning at them. I made
the top edge first, which was easy to pin at regular
height by the vertical stripe. The outer arm went
easily with the by now familiar 4,5cm to 2,25cm
ratio, but on the inside of the arm the organza was
for some reason too short for this, so I had to make
the pleats narrower. Thinking back I had probably
made some mistake on either scaling or altering the
seam. On the other hand, as the sleeve narrowed
quite a bit it was probably better in the end that
there wasn't so much bagginess on the inside. Like I
said, on transparent material the unevenness of the
pleats on the inner arm are visible, but then again
it's a place where they won't get much attention
when the dress is on.
I
attached the top edge with two row of stitching as
in the petticoat and then began pleating the elbow.
First I tried to calculate the pleat placement
evenly, but it didn't really work on the curved
piece so at last I ended up pleating them by ocular
estimate through a lot unpinning and readjusting. I
attached them with two rows of stitching, the first
1cm from the edge and the second following the
previously basted curved line. For some reason,
which I couldn't anticipate when drafting the
pattern the organza is just the right length at the
center front and back but is bagging at the sides,
and I'm still quite not sure what is causing this
effect.
I basted the finished sleeves on
the bodice by the pleating- and balance marks based on
the mock up, but of course I still had to adjust it
further. The sleeves seemed to go too far out, so I
moved the shoulder line in for about 0,7cm which made
them look much better. Like I had anticipated I had a
long battle with the front sleevehead, but at last I got
a tolerable result. Okay, one shoulder still has a few
tiny puckers that I just couldn't make disappear, but
luckily it shows less when its on than in the hanger.
I sewed the sleeves on by machine on the underarm
and also fastened the pleats by two rows of machine
stitch on the shoulder. I trimmed away the extra seam
allowance and covered the shoulder piece with the
fashion fabric, naturally by hand though it would get
mostly covered by the organza.
I own several garments with un-neatened seam allowances
on the underarm (in most cases due to advancing
deadline), so I'm really proud to report that in this
case I turned in the seam allowances on the fashion
fabric and the lining and sewed them together by hand.
I finished the bodice with the
organza trimming on the neckline and front edges. As the
2/1 ratio in the pleats had looked a bit skimpy on the
front edges I tried a few options to get a nicer look.
5,5cm of organza instead of 4,5cm pleated to the 2,25cm
looked a bit too heavy, but 5cm looked perfect.
When I
had tried the dress on it had seemed a bit too tight,
perhaps I had laced myself tighter when trying on the
lining or then the lining had had some little stretch
that had dissappeared when I added the fashion fabric.
Anyway, I pleated the organza strip to go a few
millimetres over the edge, which disguises the gapping
a bit. On the narrow point I turned the outer edges of
the organza strip under. The pleated strip turned out
very pretty and gives a nice finish to the bodice.
The
last thing to do was to pleat the skirt to the
bodice. Period dresses frequently have two options
for finishing this seam: Either turning the seam
allowances up between the bodice lining and top, or
turning them back down with the skirt. The first
option gives a nice neat finish, but in this case
the seam allowances would show through the thin
fashion fabric (as they already do at the back
seams), so I went for the second one.
In
period dresses the extra length at the center back
is very often just turned downwards, not cut. This
however felt rather difficult for me so I just
lowered the center back of the skirt by 10cm
beginning at the side seam. At the tip of the point
I made two bigger box pleats (like in the green
polonaise at Kyoto Costume Institute's book) which
create an "en fourreau"-effect, especially as the
stripes match.
On the
front edge of the skirt I made turned about 3cm deep
pleat under the organza pleating and then began to
pleat the rest of the skirt width. I wanted to pleat
by the stripes which resulted in 0,45cm wide knife
pleats. They are quite small, but I've seen as small
pleats in period dresses, no wonder really with
generous hem widths.
I pinned and
basted the heavy pleating before machine sewing
it, a few times just to be sure. I finished the
seam allowances with a tape binding. Then I wanted
to try the period technique of threading the
pleats together on the underside. It was
surprisingly easy (at least in this case when I
could use the stripes as guideline) and really
helped to keep the pleats in order. I suppose with
a non-patterned material this would be best done
before sewing the skirt to the bodice.
Now I was
finally able to try the polonaise on in it's
almost finished state. I still remained undecided
whether I wanted more support for the skirts. The
petticoat was fine with my old bumroll but the
dress skirt looked just a bit oversized. Sadly my
schedule was beginning to get kinda rushed, so I
decided to balance the petticoat front to fit my
old bumroll and see if I would have any time for
making a new one after attending to several more
urgent things.
When I got back
to polonaise, happily still some time before the
deadline I ended up trying it over my bumroll and
my quilted petticoat. The result was delightfully
puffy, but I was a bit worried that a quilted
petticoat would be kinda warm for a ball. Then I
remembered a
short quilted skirt support piece I had seen at
Demode Couture (scroll down), found it and
decided to steal the idea. My quickly made bumroll
cover turned out great, as it gives the skirt some
added fullness without being hot or cumbersome.
Then
there were just a few little things left. I sewed
loops for gathering the skirt at the waist on the
inside and fabric-covered buttons on the outside. I
added bows on the sleeves and the neckline. They
are, rather boringly, light turquoise. I tried some
more bold color combinations including red but in
the end the turquoise seemed best. I had bought the
ribbon from a holiday trip, and there was barely
enough of it for three double looped bows, hence the
ones in the sleeves being a bit skimpy.
On the neckline I added a few loops of the remaining
already hemmed organza to accompany the ribbon bow.
The bow is sewed on at the right side and has hooks
to fasten it to the thread loops on the left side.
Conclusion
I'm very happy about the
finished polonaise. It has the adorable, poofy look of the
period fashion plates, and the white and turqoise coloring looks
very fresh (At some point I nicknamed it "the toothpaste
dress"). The organza trimming, at first thrown in just because I
didn't have enough of the striped taffeta is in the end one of
my favorite things about this dress. Sure it was arduous to hem
and pleat but the final result makes up for all the work.
The bodice is quite tight, even gapping a bit at the front. It
requires tightly laced stays, and to be honest is not among my
most comfortable period clothes. Eating is the difficult thing
as I'm prone to indigestion. But then again it looks great, and
one can surely suffer for beauty occasionally.
The
second time I wore the polonaise I managed to get a
few stains on the hem, but luckily they were easy to
remove and didn't leave water marks. The organza hem
ruffle has so far survived two balls and also being
caught under a bench leg. Not counting the tight
bodice the polonaise turned out in the end more
practical garment than I had feared.
So, the pretty ball dress I have wished for so long
has finally materialized. It took quite much time
and work, but I'm also quite proud of it.