[excited, happy, orchestral music]
What does it take for a concept to become a costume?
How does an idea, whether it's a fashion plate, an extant garment, a movie costume, or our own inspiration,
find its way into our head . . .
and how does it find its way out again, into the fabric, the stitching, the physical world?
There are hundreds of decisions to be made along the way, little things that can change the whole course of a project.
So how does this . . .
. . . become this?
[calming piano music]
The 1890s bug has bitten the costuming world hard this year, me included.
Back in May I started dreaming of a late Victorian walking suit— a sharp, fashionable outfit in-line with the menswear inspired styles of the time,
and suitable for demanding one’s rights in.
A walking skirt was a must, with a dramatic sweeping line but easy to move in.
I love a good vest, so it will be a 3-piece suit.
An open-front, short Eton jacket can show off the vest and the shirtwaist, while adding a little more formality . . .
And the obligatory 1890s sleeve volume.
But how to choose patterns? There are a wealth of period pattern books and magazines available,
as well as modern-format patterns thanks to companies like Truly Victorian and Black Snail.
I fell in love with Truly Victorian's Eton jacket the moment I saw it,
and their sizing system makes it easier to fit my oddly-shaped torso.
The walking skirt took a little more thought-- my fabric choice is expensive,
and my chronic pain flares when I wear very full, heavy skirts.
Of all the patterns I've seen, Folkwear's 209 Walking Skirt uses the least yardage.
There were very few vest patterns available, and given how asymmetrical I am in the torso
I think it will be best to custom-draft a pattern using period instructions.
Wool is a classic material for Victorian menswear, and 1890s styles were heavily menswear-influenced.
We all know I have a Favorite Color, so I spent several weeks scouring the internet for a deep green wool,
dress-weight instead of coating-weight, and eventually narrowed it down to two options.
This pine green wool is from Dorr Mills, and this is a dark green tropical-weight wool suiting from B Black and Sons.
Look at how fine and soft and drapey this is . . . But the color is very muted, almost more gray than green.
I'm a bit worried by the weight of this other wool, but the color is gorgeous.
It's deep and rich and saturated and obviously green even in low light.
I'm going with this one.
Something has to provide structure and body for these sharp, tailored garments.
I'm worried about the weight, skill, and cost needed to use materials like horsehair canvas, so instead I'll use cotton organdy--
a stiff, lightweight material that behaves more like sturdy paper than fabric.
None of this is any good if these clothes don't fit. I've made different mockups for each :
a wearable mockup for the walking skirt, since it's the simplest, using leftover linen from my Demelza gown.
The Eton jacket pattern is fairly straightforward, so it got a simple mockup in my favorite material
with only one sleeve, to check the sizing and get comfortable with how it went together.
The vest, though . . .
I made two mockups at first using different drafts of the pattern, adjusting both until I knew which draft worked best.
This was followed by a third mockup with all of the adjustments, so I could be sure my pattern would work.
This wool has a right side and wrong side, and I have awful spatial awareness for things like this.
It’s taking so much mental effort to lay out these pieces in a way that will line up, have the grain where I want it,
the right side out, and use as little material as possible.
[sigh]
I am having such bad cutting anxiety right now.
I’ve agonized over laying out every single piece, because this is . . .
This is the most expensive fabric that I’ve ever worked with, and I know I can buy more if I need to, but . . .
[deep breath] I'm just going to have to get over myself.
[very anxious snip]
[calming piano music continues]
The walking skirt is all straight seams, so I can breathe a little.
The organdy petticoat I made in my previous video gave it such good volume that I didn’t need any lining or facing.
Skirt waistbands were often just a strip of ribbon to reduce bulk.
I want a matching waistband so I can wear it with only a shirtwaist,
but a doubled-up waistband like the pattern calls for would indeed be bulky.
If I felt a strip of this wool, though, I can have a single-layer waistband with a neat cut edge at the top.
The waistband goes on first,
then the placket can extend through the waistband so when I sew on the hooks and eyes, it isn’t visible on the outside.
[mysterious, energizing piano begins]
The Eton jacket was next, first a cotton organdy interlining and then the green wool fashion fabric.
[gratuitous scissor ASMR]
Because the jacket is worn open, I made the last-minute call to add a lining of black cotton lawn so the white organdy wouldn’t show.
The organdy gets basted to each wool piece as a flatlining instead.
There’s a back piece, side piece, and front pieces, plus a two-piece sleeve with moderate poof and a square collar.
It’s pretty simple, if you know what you’re doing and follow the instructions . . .
but since when have I done either? [laugh]
When the front darts are folded, the fashion fabric is separating from the lining,
so I’ll also baste down the center line of each dart to keep the layers lined up.
I had marked a shoulder adjustment when flatlining, but I held off on cutting it.
It’s a good thing I did, because when the seam allowances were lined up properly, the adjustment wasn’t necessary.
I’m not a fan of stiff, massively poofy sleeves, so I chose to skip the super-stiff organdy flatlining for them.
The wool provided plenty of body on its own.
The body could be ironed as usual, but the sleeves are so curved I had to use a miniature iron to avoid pressing in any creases.
The black lawn lining went together exactly as the outer layer did.
I sewed the sleeve lining in at the wrist, then turned them and put in gathering stitches.
The gathers had to be wrestled in as tightly as possible to fit all this sleeve into not a lot of armscye.
I don’t even want to think about if this sleeve was bigger.
[music intensifies]
The collar is a separate piece, and I chose to trim it before sewing it in.
The design is simple— a border in black gimp braid, with a loop at each back corner.
[peaceful, floating electric piano music]
The jacket armholes need to be closed up by hand, covering the sleeve seam with the body lining.
Getting the right material to finish the skirt hem was a struggle—
the wool hem braid I ordered never arrived, and all my local fabric store had was very narrow black petersham!
It’s tacked on with long stitches so when it wears from the skirt brushing against the ground,
it can easily be replaced.
[rhythmic, invigorating piano theme]
The vest was the trickiest to fit, but the hard work of patterning was well behind me by the time I cut it out.
I basted the darts with a ladder stitch that folds them up when it’s pulled tight,
so they were super easy to sew.
[piano theme develops]
There are all of four construction seams each in the wool and in the organdy lining . . .
. . . so I decided to make things harder by adding a welt pocket for a watch.
I’d never sewn a welt pocket before, and had heard terrifying stories from other costumers . . .
but I followed a random internet tutorial and after one trial run on scrap fabric,
it turned out completely fine!
I guess the lesson here is : Even if other people say something is really hard,
don’t let that stop you from trying! Just do your research, proceed carefully,
and practice before you do it on a garment.
I bagged out the lining in a thoroughly ahistorical fashion, as I often do,
smoothing the layers out wrong sides together, sewing round the neckline and bottom edge . . .
then turning it rightside out through an armhole and pressing.
The armholes have to be hand-finished.
[relaxing musical interlude]
I added boning behind each dart, which was usual,
but also at each sideseam so I could wear the vest without a corset more easily.
[piano theme returns ] Last came the buttons.
I made fabric-covered buttons using kits that were not intended for fabric this thick,
and my lovely Instagram followers very kindly helped me choose between silk and polyester buttonhole twist.
Cutting into a finished garment for buttonholes is so stressful . . .
but they came out just fine!
Each of the finished garments works on its own with modern clothes—
I forsee getting a lot of use out of these in my daily life.
[piano theme finishes]
[bright, tinkly piano intro]
[euphoric orchestral music develops] I’ve just had a birthday,
so I’m getting together with some friends for a physically distanced, masked picnic.
It’s also Halloween— how many excuses do you need to dress up?
[music trails off]
[rhythmic orchestral bridge . . .
in time with steps!] [orchestral music crescedoes]
“90% of history is not that, it’s what we already know, with some more insight.”
“Yeah, and when it comes to, like—“
[cheering and clapping off-camera]
“There you go! Wohoo!” “Look at that leg!”
“I am not the first woman to get into UC Berkeley, UC Berkeley started admitting women in 1870!”
[Orchestral music fades]
[lively fiddle jig, played by V and friends]
After all of the research and decisions and work that went into this outfit,
it was so satisfying to take it on an adventure out into the real world! I hope you enjoyed watching.
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Pop down in the comments and tell me your favorite part of bringing a costume to life.
I’ll see you in my next video! Happy sewing~
[lively fiddle jig continues]