A Ditto Suit: All Together Now
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| Accessorized with B&T scarf and Samson Historical hat |
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| From the rear |
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| Waistcoat and shirt (pardon the rbf) |
Almost two years after starting this project, I finally have some photos modeling the ditto suit. I was hoping to have much nicer ones earlier, but sometimes technology just doesn't want to play ball. Liz, my friend and the talented photographer behind the images of my Seraphina Vines 1780s round gown as well as my wintery ensemble of earliest completed 18th century garments, took some fantastically good photos of me modeling the suit early this summer. However, the images were lost when the memory card got corrupted. I hope that at some point, we'll be able to try again, as these backyard photos using a timer and a tripod don't half compare to what she can do. It's important to me that I finally got photos that I can post here, however. I don't feel as though a big project is really done and can be put away until I do a photoshoot, even a small one. The suit is done at last, and I can honestly say I learned so much and I'm incredibly proud of myself.
This was the most complex and challenging project I have ever undertaken, and I am so incredibly proud of how it turned out. Some of the biggest lessons were the unexpected ones, like the grain of the fabric on the waistcoat: I never thought about what a difference grain vs. cross grain would make for this particular worsted wool twill in regard to the neatness of the buttonholes. Another lesson for the future is paying closer attention to ensuring my "sandwich" seams are tidier. There are a few places that the lining comes dangerously close to making an appearance. In future drafting experiments, I'll try to add slightly more seam allowance to the fashion fabric. This way I can easily ensure the lining is set back about an eighth of an inch or more from the edges of the garment for a neater, more professional finish. I will also continue to practice my buttonholes. Whether or not I continue making 18th century menswear, the ability to produce consistent and beautiful handmade buttonholes is the mark of a professional, and a skill that will cross over into any era of sewing. I also learned a lot about drafting and fitting to the body. While I make most of what I wear on a day-to-day basis, I use patterns and am accustomed enough to the basic blocks the vintage pattern companies used that I know what alterations to make for my body as I cut the garment: it's not thinking work. Creating these breeches humbled me. I had to really think and engage spatial thinking in a way I haven't in a very long time.
What surprises me about it is just how comfortable these clothes are. Strictly on ease of movement and feel on my body, I think I could wear this every day. More than once during this project, I was sure I wouldn't ever want to try making anything 18th century menswear again. However, just like so many difficult but worthwhile projects, having it all finished and getting to wear it, the pain is forgotten and I'm ready to be hurt again.



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