1780s Round Gown, Part I

There is a lot of content here, so I'm breaking this up into three separate posts. Two will be on the gown itself; the third will be on the accessories I made to wear with it. And now to the good stuff!

When we visited Williamsburg, I knew I wanted to pick up some of the reproduction fabric they sell. I chose the Serpentine Vine cotton, and got 5 yards, enough to make a simple gown. You can see here on their site the comparison between the reprint and the original fabric--it's remarkably close! By the Monday after our trip, I already knew what I wanted to do with the cotton: a round gown, using the one from Fitting & Proper as my guide.

As my sewing machines were both giving me trouble at this time, I decided that this would be an excellent opportunity to sew a gown 100% by hand--no machine sewing at the skirt side seams or anywhere else I would usually "cheat." I also decided that just for fun, I'd also track my time spent on making this gown from start to finish. I have been asked on occasion how long it takes to make some of the things I've sewn, and I've never been able to give a very specific answer in regard to hours. It's easy to lose track of time sewing, too, so I know any guess I've made is probably an underestimation.

I began by drafting out the bodice. This was my first time drafting a complex pattern from a grid. I've done simple things (my cloak and mitts), but never something with so many curves and angles. Thankfully, it appeared to be not too far off from my size. I took the gridded measurements and then made my personal alterations (or attempted to). My first draft came out like this:

Draft one

My usual 1" addition to length wasn't quite enough at the sides, and with my new stays, I have more bust than I've ever had in my life, which I still forget to account for. With these changes in mind, I went back to the drawing board and re-drafted the front panels, being sure to be mindful of seam allowances (a stumbling block in the past with drafting my own patterns). 

Draft two

Draft 2.5

I ended up with a bodice muslin that was too large for round two, but that allowed me to pin and shape things exactly how I wanted them. Once I perfected the shape in draft 2.5, I took things back apart and used these pieces to cut out the fashion fabric. I then re-utilized my final muslin for the lining of the gown, because waste not, want not. Plus, these palempore-style cottons have a period correct print for a fun little surprise on the inside of my gown. I had a lot of help with this part:

Midge

Hap

 

At the end of the second day of the project and ten hours in, I had cut out everything but the sleeves, stitched together the bodice lining, attached one of the fronts, and pinned down my bodice back pleats. The dress looked like this:

On the third day of the project, I had the delightful and new experience of working on my gown listening to live 18th century music under the shade of a magnolia tree. The Washington County Museum of Fine Arts hosted an event where a variety of 18th century artisans came out and plied their trades for the public, and I attended to share sewing skills. I had a wonderful time meeting new people and answering questions for lots of fascinated and highly inquisitive children, all while making good progress on my gown. I even made it into the local paper! I don't have a photo for the third day's progress as the gown didn't really look much different than at the end of day two. However, I was able to get the lining and fashion fabrics attached to one another, all the pleats stitched down, the apron front attached to the skirt back, and half of the skirt back pleated. I was at a total of 17 hours by the end of this day, although probably only 14 or 15 of those were solid working hours.

Could you ask for a better sewing experience?

Photo courtesy of the museum

The fourth day was not a sewing-intensive day. At some point, you have to take care of things around the house and spend time with your loved ones. My husband went to bed early, so I stayed up and got about 2.5 hours in, correcting a few errors I made late in the day on Saturday, and getting the rest of the skirt pleated and gathered. I did a quick and dirty fitting using Jane 2.5 to make sure the pleats laid correctly over my false rump before basting them down. It was too humid and too late in the evening to do a fitting on myself that night, but that was my the next step before I started the clock on sewing time again.

Checking the pleats before basting them down in preparation for a proper fitting the next day.

Sunday evening's helper. He's even using his thimble!

The fifth day's goal was to get a proper fitting of the gown on myself, as well as to secure the skirts completely to the bodice. For the apron front of the gown, I gathered the top by hand, then attached it with whip stitches to a length of wool tape, almost like a tiny cartridge pleating technique. I folded the top of the tape over to give it a smooth edge and secure the ties I attached at each end. The gown in Fitting & Proper calls for hooks and loops here, not ties, but I like the flexibility that ties will give me with fitting, and I worry that in the long run, hooks will put undue stress on the gown, what with the weight of the long skirts. After a very pleasing outcome for my fitting, I sewed the back of the skirt to the bodice more permanently and started thinking about the sleeves.

Tiny gathers

A quick fitting with stays and rump over pyjamas (pardon my very old, somewhat foggy mirror)

I drafted the first muslin of my sleeves on the sixth day. A quick try-on of the sleeves on their own seemed promising, so I opted to call it good for the evening with only an hour of work in. We were beginning the transition back into regular hours at the school, and having to arrive an hour and a half earlier is no joke. I knew if I pushed myself to work more on the sleeves that evening, I would make mistakes and set myself back. 

Day seven of the project was all sleeves. With the husband back on his night shift rotation, it meant that once I got home on his days to work, I was free to sew as much as I wanted on a weeknight before realizing I had stayed up too late. This was good, because sleeves are notoriously difficult. I put in five hours on the seventh day, and while I accomplished a lot, I did indeed stay up a bit too late.

Don't @ me for tying my gown wrong for the fitting.

After basting the first draft sleeve to the gown, It was a little short and snug, and the sleeve head didn't lay quite right over the bend of my shoulder. In the above picture, it doesn't look too bad, particularly from the side and front, but the back of the sleeve just wasn't right. The original gown has a non-pleated, smooth sleeve head like this one, but I didn't find that this worked well for my range of motion. I lengthened and widened the sleeve head, and added a bit more seam allowance to the underarm seam. This seemed to fit just right, so I cut my fashion fabric as well. I sewed these together at the sleeve opening, prick stitching after I turned them right-sides out in order to make sure the lining didn't show. I need to do the same to the neckline and center front of the bodice as well, as I've found the lining wants to peek around the edge when I pin the front closed. I also got the shoulder straps trimmed and sewn together at the neckline, basting the final sleeve iterations in. My plan was to do another fitting before sewing them in for good and sandwiching them inside the shoulder strap, but that had to wait for another day. 

Part of my process on day seven included a small crisis. This project was marked by careful work: taking my time to ensure my muslins were properly fitted, dong all the work by hand, et cetera. However, I made one rather serious mistake, and it took me a week of workdays (and more real-time days than that) to notice one huge, uncorrectable error. I cut exactly half the dress with the fabric running a different direction than the other half. The fabric literally has an all-over print of arrows, and half of them are pointing up, and the other half are pointing down. It's a small print, so it's not noticeable unless you're looking for it, but I suppose that's what I get for being so smug about how well everything was going. 

Honest to Pete, I don't know how I managed this.

On days eight and nine, I got about a collective hour in. On top of getting back to the full work schedule, there was a family crisis and a few bad health days, marking the first major gaps in sewing days since between days one and two. All I had the mental and physical capacity to do was finish setting in the sleeves and shoulder straps. I also made some headway on figuring out how the back neckline facing went on, but didn't manage to actually get it sewn on. 

 

Progress may have stalled out, but it's looking like a gown!

On day ten (after another sizeable gap in time), I tackled the hem, one of the very last parts. It isn't easy to pin a hem on yourself while wearing stays and a false rump, but the mannequin helps. I was able to get a general idea of length, and pinned and pressed it in preparation for what would hopefully be the final fitting. 

That flappy bit at the neckline is the back neck facing, not yet attached and coming loose from its moorings.

The back neck facing gave me a bit of trouble. By the time I figured out exactly how it was supposed to lay, I had already cut the "V" in the wrong direction on one side (shapes are hard). And this is where things slowed down, and I took a hiatus.

When I say I took a hiatus, I really mean it. Work began winding up to start the school year, grad school started back up, it was too hot to exist (let alone sew), and life just got hectic. It was nearly seven weeks before I picked up this project again. I had left off with doubts about my hem and the fit of the bodice, as well as the frustration of making a pretty big error on the back neck facing. All of this meant that there were doom and gloom feelings floating over the gown. Stress and heat had me in quite a mood (don't ask my husband about it), so I just didn't feel like picking it back up. However, around that seven week mark, my full-time job ended more abruptly than expected. I was expecting a transition out as I began my clinical internship, but not with such suddenness. My internship site hadn't anticipated it either, so I was left with nothing to do for a full week. In catching up on all the other things that needed done around the house, I threw myself into cleaning up the piles of ufos and mending in my sewing space. It took no time at all to get the gown hemmed, and it was even just right. My worries were all for naught, as they so often are. And then, my internship went into full swing. I pressed pause on the sewing again.

There were several weekends full of family obligations and homework crunches, between hemming the gown and putting the neckline facing on. One whole month later, on my birthday in fact, I had my first "lazy morning" in weeks. For something to do while my husband made a birthday breakfast, I sat at the kitchen table and sewed. It seemed like appropriate timing--a double celebration: making it to the end of another year of life and to the end of an ambitious project. 

 

I'm truly impressed with myself. My hand sewing skills have grown exponentially since I began dabbling in the 18th century, and I mastered this rather ambitious project with patience and more knowledge than I realized. The amount of time it took me didn't seem too bad to me, either. All told, I tracked 33 hours from first draft of bodice pieces to last stitch in the neckline facing. I couldn't resist trying it on for a few casual backyard photos and a check that everything fit correctly.

Who can resist a good twirl?

I love putting on 18th century clothing. Every time I do, I never want to take it off. I want to live a simple life in stays and shift and petticoats. There's something about the clothing that brings me a great joy. However, it has to come off again sometime, and this time because it needed to head back to the sewing room. 

 

I had been harboring suspicions that I had cut the front bodice nearly too snugly, and trying on the gown confirmed it. I could pin it closed but just. I didn't particularly want to go with a hook-and-eye closure, just because I like the wider range of fit that pinning the front closed offers. Like most of us, my weight can fluctuate, and that impacts fit. But how to fix it? When I bought the fabric, I bought just enough to make the gown, so there wasn't enough to recut the bodice, especially as it is one piece from the side back all the way to the center front. I did have just enough to add in a pair of panels to extend the center front, however. I very carefully laid out my fabric and matched the pattern as exactly as I could. I basted it in place, and then sewed it in, adding 1.5 inches to each side of the front closure. The process looked like this:

 

Front extension ready to baste in

Extension sewed in and front slightly re-shaped to accommodate the addition

Left is after, right is before

One final fitting determined that the extension accomplished its purpose. The gown proper was finished, my first-ever 100% hand sewn 18th century gown. All told, I spent thirty-seven hours from start to finish. Not quite as impressive as 33 hours from opening the book to tying off the last thread, but respectable nonetheless. Now she waits for final photographs, being modeled temporarily by Jane 2.5.

Complete at last!