London-Bound

· by | in Field trips | tagged , , ,

Readers,

The subject line read “Bespoke Tailoring–2-week short course at FTM.”

“FTM” is the Fashion and Textile Museum in London. I had visited it as part of my research two and a half years ago for “Sewing Destination: London, England,” which I wrote for Threads magazine. I had been getting the museum’s e-mail newsletter ever since.

Suitings awaiting a tailor's needle.

Suitings awaiting a tailor’s needle. (photo: Cynthia DeGrand)

Every few weeks I’d glance at the announcements flowing from FTM about its exhibitions, events and courses and enjoy imagining attending. Then I’d get on with my day.

But this subject line grabbed me. Immediately I clicked on the link.

Gieves and Hawkes, at No. 1 Savile Row

Gieves and Hawkes, at No. 1 Savile Row (photo: Cynthia DeGrand)

“Led by a Savile Row tailor,” it said.  Wow. “Including tours of Savile Row,” it said. Wow!

“Download the Course Outline,” it said. I did.

Great tailoring requires great materials. English woolens.

Great tailoring requires great materials. English woolens. (photo: Cynthia DeGrand)

It just got better–and more daunting.

“All-day field trip exploring London’s tailoring centres and the market for bespoke.” Yes!

My favorite research project ever: my article in the June-July 2012 issue of Threads.

My favorite research project ever: my article in the June-July 2012 issue of Threads.

“Students will understand the technicalities of fitting a garment [right...in one day?] and begin to draft their own pair of trousers using Savile Row techniques.” Eek.

“Students will be invited into three tailoring companies to be shown the unique ways of working within each company.” Ahhh.

Lock & Co., one of London's great old hatmakers mainly for men.

Lock & Co., one of London’s great old hatmakers mainly for men. (photo: Cynthia DeGrand)

“Using all of the techniques learnt the previous day, students will create their own waistcoat baste completely by hand.” Hmmm. Maybe. We’ll just have to see how much I learnt first.

Despite my qualms about drafting patterns, since anything beyond the simplest alteration gets the better of me, the thought of being exposed to the arcane arts of British men’s tailoring from a pro, in the company of fellow enthusiasts, in my favorite city, was almost more than I could stand.

A great suit calls for the right hat. Jack admires the hats in the window of Bates.

A great suit calls for the right hat. Jack admires the hats in the window of Bates. (photo: Cynthia DeGrand)

I forwarded the e-mail to Jack at work with the single sentence: “I want to do this!”

He wrote back, “And I want you to do it.”

The next day I registered for the course.

I have never felt worthy of working with worsteds. Will that change?

I have never felt worthy of working with worsteds. Will that change? (photo: Cynthia DeGrand)

That was just under three weeks ago. I learned yesterday that only a few places are still open, and the course is expected to go. It takes place January 14-24.

The evening of January 9 will see me boarding a plane in Minneapolis, landing at Heathrow at noon on the 10th. I’ll have a few days before and after the course to revisit some of the places and events–museums, vintage fashion fairs, street markets, and stores–that I covered in “Sewing Destination.”

Well-tailored menswear can have a long life: a vintage menswear store called Old Hat.

Well-tailored menswear can have a long life: a vintage menswear store called Old Hat. (photo: Cynthia DeGrand)

Between now and the flight I’m assigning myself some homework:

  • planning a travel wardrobe
  • reading about the history of British men’s tailoring
  • studying men’s pattern-drafting and tailoring books

As to the last of these three assignments: I won’t be an expert, but at least I’ll be able to ask better questions.

But, just maybe, I’m being too pessimistic.

Could be a bespoke waistcoat for Jack be in the offing?

A souvenir from my Threads magazine research: swatches of Harris tweeds handwoven in Scotland.

A souvenir from my Threads magazine research: swatches of Harris tweeds handwoven in Scotland.

Organizing by Messing Around

· by | in Sewing supplies | tagged ,

Readers,

Sometimes the best solution I’ve discovered for a pesky problem turns out to be the easiest, cheapest and laziest.  I have to be in the right state of mind though, for that solution to occur to me.

I ran a little test hanging button bags and swatches over the ironing board. I stopped noticing them.

I ran a little test hanging button bags and swatches over the ironing board. I stopped noticing them.

A couple of days ago I had wrapped up a big sewing project and series of posts and was not in the mood to plunge into the next project just yet. I felt restless. I didn’t want to sit at a computer or sewing machine or stand at a cutting table or ironing board. I didn’t want to decipher 1940s pattern instructions, or plan.

I didn’t want anything to do with words or thinking.

A bulletin board + tacks + bagged supplies = fun.

A bulletin board + tacks + bagged supplies = fun.

This turned out to be a very good thing.

Because what I instinctively turned to was playing with the buttons and buckles I had sorted and bagged but not yet stored to my satisfaction.  For weeks they’d been in a jumble in a big plastic basket. I hadn’t made them much more accessible than before, and that bugged me.

The bags can hang on tacks, easy to remove and rehang.

The bags can hang on tacks, easy to remove and rehang.

I had hung some buttons on pegboard hooks in view of my ironing board for inspiration. But I concluded that when I’m pressing and grading seams I’m focused like a laser on the task. Those buttons had become invisible in full view.

In sight, in mind.

In sight, in mind.

It was only when my brain was tired that a quick, easy, cheap and lazy solution occurred to me: hanging the bags from tacks on a bulletin board.  I began to sort into colors and sizes but quickly gave it up.  I just feverishly grabbed bags and tacked in horizontal rows starting at the bottom and working my way up, overlapping like roof tiles.  In a matter of minutes–not hours or days, and with no seam-ripping–I was done.

Forget the chicken and the egg--which comes first, the button or the fabric?

Forget the chicken and the egg–which comes first, the button or the fabric?

I  liked the unexpected juxtapositions of colors, shapes and sizes. I liked using ordinary office supplies lying around the house. I liked the portability of this storage and the ease of taking bags off and rehanging them.

Having fun worked, too.

Now my buttons and buckles are organized (but not too much) in view of my stash, ready to stoke my imagination anew.

Buckles, a pair of dress clips, even some vintage initial tape available to be planned into a garment now.

Buckles, a pair of dress clips, even some vintage initial tape available to be planned into a garment now.

A Dream with a Deadline

· by | in Process, Sewing Projects | tagged , ,

Readers,

The new jacket looks nice combined with burgundy.

The new jacket looks nice combined with burgundy.

Yesterday, after I did a photo shoot, a mind map and a title for my usual Saturday afternoon post, the fingers were poised over the keyboard to bang out several hundred words.

First iteration: muslin.

First iteration: muslin.

They stayed poised.

If a mirror had been hanging on my bulletin board it would have reflected the wrinkled brow of someone who sensed there was a better idea out there than the one she had planned to write about. More mulling needed to be done.

Darn.

See, readers, I was going to talk about how I’d finally gotten the traction to take the leopard-collar jacket off my sewing to-do list (where it had been since at least 2002) and put it on my “done” list. I followed these steps and, bada-bing, bada-boom–finished.

Second round: wearable test from an orange mystery fiber. (Acrylic?)

Second round: wearable test from an orange mystery fiber. (Acrylic?)

Okay, there was a little more to the story than that. I was going to talk about the value of committing to the process.

I had thought the main problem was that I just didn’t want to cut into my beautiful and hard-to-replace fabrics and that I also didn’t want to go through the hours of drudgery doing a muslin and wearable test. Hours and hours–and hours! Interminable!

Really? Longer than the 11 years I’d been entertaining this sewing dream? Hmm.

The wearable test has the back vent.

The wearable test has the back vent.

I was going to show you the progression, from the muslin,

to the wearable test,

to the finished jacket.

And I was going to say that although I had never defined what would be so difficult, time-consuming and frustrating,  obviously I believed the story I’d told myself a thousand times.  Much suffering would occur, I was sure of it, to attain this goal.

I was going to say that once I got disengaged from my story and engaged in the nuts-and-bolts cutting and sewing I dealt with garden-variety problems with ordinary solutions.

I subtracted the back vent and added belt carriers.

I subtracted the back vent and added belt carriers.

I was also going to say I’d added structure and momentum to my project by signing up for the coat-making class at Treadle Yard Goods and getting all the technical and moral support I could want from my teacher and classmates.

I was also going to say that the technical lessons I learned moving through the phases of this project would serve me well in all my future projects. Whatever effort that went into doing the job right was an investment in all my future sewing

It looks good with yellowish greens.

It looks good with yellowish greens.

I was also going to say that I was pleasantly surprised that the wearable test really was wearable–and that the final jacket is much more versatile than I had realized.

I was going to mention a few changes I made in the final design. I took out the back vent, and added belt carriers.

I was going to reference that quote about a goal being a dream with a deadline.

It looks good with malted-milk beige. (What in the world is she looking up at?)

It looks good with malted-milk beige. (What in the world is she looking up at?)

Everything I was going to say was undeniably accurate. Still, as I looked over my points, I thought, “This is incomplete. What’s missing?” That’s why the fingers remained motionless over the keyboard yesterday afternoon.

This morning I returned to my conundrum. And I realized something: I had been writing only about the “what” and the “how.”

But the “what” and the “how”–the technical and logistical knowledge–were not the real story.

The real story lay in the self-knowledge: the “who” and the “why.”

This jacket combines nicely with charcoal gray, loden green, chocolate brown, and more colors than I had at first imagined.

This jacket combines nicely with charcoal gray, loden green, chocolate brown, and more colors than I had at first imagined.

Now I recognized why I hadn’t made the jacket up to this point. I could–and did–imagine wearing it, many times. I saw myself wearing it to restaurants and theaters and museums. (Never to the grocery store–why not?) But somehow, until recently, I wasn’t seeing myself…inhabiting that jacket is the best way I can put it.

I reached some kind of tipping point where now I see this jacket not as a costume but as a real part of my wardrobe; not as something I imposed on myself but as something that expresses me. Little shifts here and there put me on a new trajectory.

Wish I could be clearer, but I guess I just have to mull some more.

What I do know is that getting things sewn requires knowing my own “what,” “how,” “who” and “why”--all four–if I want move from only a dream–to a dream with a deadline.

Done--but beginning, too.

Done–but beginning, too.

Project: Vogue 9820 (1959) Jacket, Part 8

· by | in Sewing Projects | tagged , ,

Readers,

Here it is: the jacket I spent more than a decade dreaming of making. After more hours than I care to say, it’s 99 percent done.  And it measures up to my expectations, which is pretty fantastic.

A soft and very comfortable jacket.

A soft and very comfortable jacket.

You know that feeling of sliding on a coat or jacket that feels exactly right? The right fit in the shoulders, the right sleeve length, the right drape? The right color, proportion, style?  I have that feeling wearing this.

When I finished this jacket late this afternoon it was sleeting–awful for outdoor photos– and dim indoors in my makeshift photo space. I rolled out the seamless and Jack took a few shots. I will run more photos when we get better light conditions.

Two units are sewn together to make this jacket.

Two units are sewn together to make this jacket: the under collar plus the outer fabric, and the upper collar plus the flannel-backed lining.

Once again, this project took many more hours to complete than I expected. How come I’m so terrible at estimating project times?

I just wanted to show you some of the inner workings of a jacket. I decided to underline the front, back, and upper sleeve lining pieces with thin flannel for extra warmth. I had some thin, cheap cotton flannel just right for this application. The flannel-backed lining has a nice weight and feels luxurious.

Thin, cheap cotton flannel lines the lining pieces for warmth and a luxurious padded feeling.

Thin, cheap cotton flannel lines the lining pieces for warmth and a luxurious padded feeling.

I also wanted you to see that much of the work of making a jacket comes from the “supporting cast” of hair canvas in the under collar, sleeve and bottom hems, muslin interfacings, sleeve heads to plump up the sleeve caps, shoulder pads, and the flannel-backed lining. In a finished jacket you don’t see these things, but they affect drape and performance so much. Kenneth King, frequent Threads magazine contributor, says “The fashion fabric is only along for the ride!” That’s such a good way to put it.

The pattern that captured my imagination.

The pattern that captured my imagination.

There is something left to decide before I can call this jacket truly done. There is too much play between the upper and lower collars. I could stabilize the collar with topstitching or with a method called “stitch in the ditch.” I’ll get advice on this at my next coatmaking class in a couple of days.

Tomorrow I’ll vacuum up the thread snippings and fabric scraps, fold up the jacket pattern and clear the work tables.  I have a trench coat to sew.

Next: this 1944 pattern.

Next: this 1944 pattern.

Field Trip: Shopping for a Mannequin

· by | in Field trips, Sewing supplies | tagged

Readers,

You may have noticed my new assistant appearing in recent photo shoots. I bought her on an expedition a few weeks ago when my sister, photographer, and fellow adventurer Cynthia was in town.

The newest member of the Getting Things Sewn team.

The newest member of the Getting Things Sewn team.

A year ago Jack and I visited Accent Store Fixtures in Minneapolis searching for a mannequin small enough for my clothes to fit. We came home emptyhanded.  A mannequin with the measurements of a size 6 sewing pattern is not that common.

Preoccupied with many other preparations necessary for starting a sewing blog, I set aside my ambition to have a body double. I made do, with varying results.

Welcome to the weird world of retail store mannequins.

Welcome to the weird world of retail store mannequins.

In earlier posts I tried enlisting Jack to photograph me, setting the camera on a tripod and taking pictures of myself out on the deck, or shooting garments lying flat on a table. (The garments were flat, that is–not me!) Each of these methods worked to some degree.

Would any of these be coming home with me?

Would any of these be coming home with me?

But if Jack was at work when I was ready to shoot and the light was right, or if the weather was bad and outdoor shooting was out of the question, I was stuck. And spreading a finished garment out flat on a table to shoot was just plain pathetic. No, as long as my real photographer, Cynthia, lived 764 miles and a time zone away, I would need to find a helping hand.

Which mannequin will measure up?

Which mannequin will measure up?

Or, more precisely, a helping torso.

So on a fine day in late September Cynthia and I took a city bus to a very amusing store next to the Minneapolis Farmers Market.

(Maybe I should run a caption contest for this one.)

(Maybe I should run a caption contest for this one.)

The owner was perfectly happy to let us roam around examining mannequins and photographing whatever we liked.

I wore a jacket I could try on mannequins and brought a measuring tape, which I used a lot.  Outside my usual frame of reference, I kept misjudging sizes. I would think I’d found a small enough form, but no–too big. On her I wouldn’t be able to zip up one of my skirts.

Presenting the Rockettes!

Presenting the Rockettes!

I was hoping I could find a complete form–head, removable limbs, everything. No luck there.

I did, however, find the next best thing: a form including thighs on an adjustable stand that would allow skirts or pants. This was an improvement over both my old dress form and duct tape double.

Male mannequins, too.

Male mannequins, too.

The measurements were right. And so was the price $45. A bargain!

With my main mission accomplished, Cynthia and I explored the rest of the store. Accent Store Fixtures had lots of wall storage systems at reasonable prices.

What great storage possibilities!

What great storage possibilities!

I was tempted by new hooks for my pegboard but decided to define my storage needs first and then come back with a plan. I could see devoting lots of pegboard space to my button bags using inexpensive and versatile hooks.

Between us we managed to get my prize home quite handily. On the bus we discussed naming my new assistant.

My purchase, in a plain white wrapper.

My purchase, in a plain white wrapper.

“I think she should have the name of a 1940s starlet,” I said.

“Ginger,” Cynthia said. That seemed just right. We entertained no other possibilities. Ginger she became.

Ginger in her new home.

Ginger in her new home.

Home again, we went straight to work setting Ginger up and putting her through her paces.

The sunroom before a quick conversion to a photo space.

The sunroom before a quick conversion to a photo space.

We discovered that her stand put her at a rakish angle, which Cynthia corrected by wedging a three-ring binder under the base.

Now I appreciate what stylists do. Details, details!

Now I appreciate what stylists do. Details, details!

The natural light in the sunroom, modified by roman shades I sewed 20+ years ago, worked wonderfully. But the green walls and electrical outlets were distracting.

The green wall and outlet were distracting.

The green wall and outlet were distracting.

We made a quick trip to a photographers’ supply, where Cynthia knew just what I needed: a roll of white seamless–heavy paper–for a neutral, light-enhancing background.

With seamless in place: much better!

With seamless in place: much better!

Home once again, we affixed a length of seamless to the wall with strips of blue painters’ tape. Much better!

It looks like my next purchase should be a steamer. Look at those wrinkles!

It looks like my next purchase should be a steamer. Look at those wrinkles!

For closeups we cut a shorter length of seamless to cover a table.

Seamless on a table and voila: I can shoot small objects.

Seamless on a table and voila: I can shoot small objects.

For well under $100 I now have a simple and effective little photo space that I can set up and break down quickly by myself. I’ve used it at least a dozen times now, and it’s really fun.

Vintage buttons photographed on the new seamless.

Vintage buttons photographed on the new seamless.

I also have a mannequin that allows me to try out combinations and view sewing projects and outfits with more objectivity.

Ginger plays muse as I compose posts.

Ginger plays muse as I compose posts.

When not posing in the sunroom Ginger plays muse in my sewing domain. Right now she’s draped in the orange acrylic wearable test jacket. But I could swear she has her eye on the leopard-printed velveteen version that’s underway. She’s looking forward to modeling that one.

So am I.

(All photos except the last two, Cynthia DeGrand)

Project: Vogue 9820 (1959) Jacket, Part 7

· by | in Sewing Projects | tagged ,

Readers,

I was racing against the dimming light late this afternoon to capture a few pictures of the jacket work-in-progress.

My makeshift photo studio works pretty well!

My makeshift photo studio works pretty well!

It’s turning out really well. The wool-cashmere blend has a lovely spongy texture that made sewing in the sleeves a dream–perfectly smooth sleeve caps even without sleeve heads.

These two fabrics look as if they were made for each other. But I didn’t always think so. I originally planned to pair the leopard print with black. But I think this spicy brown is more interesting; don’t you?

Some stitching and judicious tucking give a sense of the finished garment.

Some stitching and judicious tucking give a sense of the finished garment.

As you can see, this is far from complete. The fronts, back and under collar are sewn together, but I just laid the upper collar unit on top and hastily folded and tucked to simulate a finished garment. I grabbed the unsewn belt and tied it around my mannequin’s middle. She didn’t seem to mind.

Looking as good going as coming.

Looking as good going as coming.

Now everything is returned to the sewing domain for further stitching.

Just enough of a preview to keep me going and sewing.

Getting closer!

Getting closer!

Project: Vogue 9820 (1959) Jacket, Part 6

· by | in Sewing Projects | tagged , ,

Readers,

Just a little report on the progress of the leopard collar jacket.

I cut a stencil of the collar pattern piece from heavy paper and laid it on the velveteen to preview the look before I cut into the fabric. This leopard print varies from dark in the middle to lighter toward each end, and I wanted the pattern to be balanced.

Before cutting the fabric, I laid a stencil on the fabric to preview. Not a necessary step, but fun.

Before cutting the fabric, I laid a stencil on the fabric to preview. Not a necessary step, but fun.

I have done similar things–cut out a window from plain, heavy paper–to preview the look of a plaid pocket flap I considered cutting on the bias. I’ve found this easy, useful, informative and fun.

All these years I’ve hesitated to chop into fabric that’s close to irreplaceable. This stencil/window thing is a little trick to nudge me toward taking the big step of cutting.

Another preview I did, just for fun, was to lay the velveteen on my wearable test jacket, folding under the seam allowances. Now I have a pretty good idea of the impact of the leopard print pattern as part of the overall garment. It is certainly eye-catching, but it looks like it will be in balance.

Preview: the velveteen collar piece laid onto the wearable test with the seam allowance tucked under. I am liking this!

Preview: the velveteen collar piece laid onto the wearable test with the seam allowance tucked under. I am liking this!

I cut the wool-cashmere pattern pieces yesterday, working around the moth-holey parts of the yardage. (I bought this fabric second-hand–buyer beware!)  Luckily, there was more than enough intact material for this project.

The handy dandy leopard collar jacket kit. Easy assembly!

The handy dandy leopard collar jacket kit. Easy assembly!

I pulled a milk-chocolate brown lining from my stash. Interfacings are next.

A few steps closer.

A few steps closer.

Project: Vogue 9820 (1959) Jacket, Part 5

· by | in Process, Sewing Projects | tagged , ,

Readers,

I finished my wearable test this morning, and am pretty pleased with the result.

This jacket is comfy and easy to wear.

This jacket is comfy and easy to wear.

When I saw how well this was coming together I realized this could be a garment I’d really wear. So I lavished more attention on it than I would a usual test. I went ahead and interfaced it, put in sleeveheads, made and installed shoulder pads–the works.

The good news is that I gained a garment for my trouble, and got valuable experience that should make my “real” jacket–the one with the leopard-print velveteen collar–easier to sew and better looking than it would have otherwise.

Just this morning I noticed that my hat looks a lot like the hat in the pattern illustration.

Just this morning I noticed that my hat looks a lot like the hat in the pattern illustration.

The bad news is, in my imagination I was going to have this finished on Tuesday–four days ago–and the leopard one finished yesterday. Uh huh.

So for all the success I should be enjoying, I feel late. Behind “schedule.”

I just might skip the vent in the next jacket I sew. Then I could install the lining almost entirely by machine.

I just might skip the vent in the next jacket I sew. Then I could install the lining almost entirely by machine.

Oh, I’ll get over this; by tomorrow I’ll be all jazzed up to start the leopard collar jacket and will have forgotten this ridiculous “late” business.

Here’s the strangest part: I feel more late having finished this jacket today rather than this past Tuesday than I feel late about having had the fabric and the plan to sew this jacket since 2002!

I used a milk-chocolate brown lining from my stash.

I used a milk-chocolate brown lining from my stash.

Surely somebody has studied this phenomenon of disproportionate and misplaced something-or-other. If not, there’s PhD research material here, and I volunteer to be a subject.  If there’s a cure, clue me in.

My “lateness” was for the best of reasons. I saw that taking more time to do the job as right as I could–like installing sleeveheads to smooth out the wrinkles in the sleeve caps, mitering the vent to reduce bulk, stabilizing seams, etc., would be good practice for all my future projects and would yield better looking, longer lasting results.

The materials for the next jacket.

The materials for the next jacket.

Oh, and the doing often wasn’t as time-consuming as figuring out what to do and in what sequence, because I don’t always follow the instructions in vintage patterns, which can be either vague or unnecessarily labor-intensive.

But I did figure out what to do.  And I did figure out the sequence.  This turned out to be a straightforward project with nothing very tricky.

This is such a smart looking jacket, easy to sew, easy to love, vintage enough for vintage lovers but contemporary too.

Vogue Patterns, a new audience awaits the reissuing of this pattern!

Coming soon!

Coming soon!

What Works/What Doesn’t: McCall 7842, Coat (1934)

· by | in fit, Wardrobe | tagged ,

Readers,

My coat-making fever this fall has prompted me to take a fresh look at a project I did about five years ago. I was disappointed in the result, but had not really clarified my dissatisfaction until I had myself photographed wearing the coat and could analyze the fit and the look against the pattern drawing. A couple of sewing friends also looked at the pictures and gave me their opinions. It turned out we agreed about the problems and possible solutions.

This was a simple but eye-opening exercise.  I’ve got a much clearer idea of the kinds of problems this pattern poses and the solutions I’d try. Not only that, but I think I’ll make better pattern, fabric, and ready-to-wear choices in the future. Very worthwhile, fun, and interesting.

One of my very favorite pattern illustrations. Now, can I make a coat that's just as great?

One of my very favorite pattern illustrations. Now, can I make a coat that’s just as great?

This McCall coat pattern from 1934 enchanted me with its casual air, generous lapels, and relatively easy construction. I’ve looked at hundreds of coat patterns, and this one remains a favorite. It’s a classic.

So how come my coat doesn’t look all that great on me?

Functions? Yes. Fits? No. Flatters? Afraid not!

Functions? Yes. Fits? No. Flatters? Afraid not!

What works? It’s warm and cuddly. It got me through many a winter bus stop wait between library work assignments around Hennepin County.

What doesn’t work?

This is too BIG!

This is too BIG!

I think part of the problem is in the fabric I chose. I used a bulky wool coating, which was a great choice for warmth but not for drape. I was going to say that my fabric is stiffer than what’s suggested in the illustration, but my fabric falls in gentle folds, too. Nevertheless, I think that because I’m only 5′ 1 1/2″ I really have to be careful with bulk in full-length coats.

Wide, wide, wide.

Wide, wide, wide.

Another big problem is proportion. I recall shortening the coat about 8 inches, which threw off the proportion. The illustration shows a classic proportion of one third above the belt and two thirds below.  Measuring the drawing with a hem gauge, I noticed that the one-third proportion–2 inches–was achieved by turning up the collar. All three renderings show the turned-up collar (which I like, by the way). On me the division is closer to half and half, which isn’t flattering.

Looks great on her...

Looks great on her…

And then, those lapels! They just drag the eye down. How could I have missed this in the muslins?

For one thing, the upper collar comes down too far. And then the lapel is positioned too low. It looks quite different from the pattern illustration.

What I missed in the illustration was the fact that the lapel, or front facing, continues below the tied belt. This also brings the eye down, which I don’t need.

...but the collar and lapels are too low on me.

…but the collar and lapels are too low on me.

Also, the belt is a little wider than ideal, and it divides me into two unflattering halves.

So I have these vertical challenges going on.

I also have width challenges. The bulky fabric adds width. When I wrap the coat around myself, the overlap completely covers one of the patch pockets. That’s obviously wrong.

An alternative from the same period. It might be fun to try this just for the Hepburn association.

An alternative from the same period. It might be fun to try this just for the Hepburn association.

Where width would be welcome–in the shoulders–raglan sleeves are not as good a choice as set-in sleeves, but they can work with the right shoulder pads and the right overall design.

My question is, could I change this pattern enough, while retaining its distinctiveness, to make a coat that functions, fits, and flatters?

Here's another McCall coat, from 1936.

Here’s another McCall coat, from 1936.

Working with a patternmaker, I could change the collar and lapels to bring the eye up, take out the excess overlap to correct the width, and narrow the belt.

For the wearable test I would try a thinner fabric that drapes, for the most dramatic contrast with the previous version.

This coat clamors to be made, too.

This coat clamors to be made, too.

This would be such an interesting experiment, sometime I might try it. But the improvements must lead to a wonderful pattern, not one that’s a little better. It might be that a wrap coat, in the end, is simply not a good style for me.

If that’s the case, some other coat patterns are waiting in the wings for their moment in the spotlight.

Interesting seaming! This is the back of the Hollywood pattern shown just above.

Interesting seaming! This is the back of the Hollywood pattern shown just above.

(Photographs: Cynthia DeGrand.)

Project: Du Barry 5913 (1944), Trench Coat, Part 2

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· by | in Sewing Projects | tagged , , ,

Readers,

I had time before my next coat-making class session to make a muslin of my next project, this 1944 trench coat by Du Barry.

Even in this early stage this coat looks promising. (I'd fire the stylist for that flopped-over lapel, but the stylist was guess who.)

Even in this early stage this coat looks promising. (I’d fire the stylist for that flopped-over lapel, but the stylist was guess who.)

Normally I find making muslins  a tedious business, but I’ve changed my tune with this one. It’s been exciting to reconstitute a little piece of mid-’40s fashion. Look at those lapels! And those shoulders! So period!

The prominent shoulders bring the eye up, and the center pleat creates verticality.

The prominent shoulders bring the eye up, and the center pleat creates verticality.

Some pattern alterations are in order:

  • Shortening the sleeves
  • Taking some ease out of the sleeve cap to solve the puckering problem

    Reducing the ease in the sleeve cap will make a smooth, handsome shoulder line.

    Reducing the ease in the sleeve cap will make a smooth, handsome shoulder line.

  • Taking some width out of the back above the waist.
  • Possibly reducing the space allowed for the shoulder pads

    Before reducing the back pattern piece, I will experiment with different thicknesses of shoulder pads.

    Before reducing the back pattern piece, I will experiment with different thicknesses of shoulder pads.

I will try on this muslin in class and get feedback from teacher Michele and my classmates.

Now to rifle through the stash for a wearable test fabric.

Bringing back a taste of 1944.

Bringing back a taste of 1944.