Wrap it Up, I’ll Take it: Made for Someone Else

Banyan, 1750-1775. T.215-1992, V&A Museum
Banyan, 1750-1775.
T.215-1992, V&A Museum

Disclaimer: This is an adaptation of an earlier post, so if you think you’ve read this before, you probably have.

Banyan or wrapping gown: both terms are used,  but the wearer and I call this a banyan for brevity’s sake. Despite its simplicity, this project took longer than I wanted, mostly because I have a tendency to take on too many things at once and promptly get sick. I like to think of this ability as a very special talent.

In any case, this simple garment was made more fun by piecing– it’s the challenge that keeps you awake, when the majority of the work is in teeny-tiny back stitches.

I took the subject’s chest, arm and back length, and bicep measurements, and made up my own pattern, using the chintz banyan in Fitting and Proper and this one at the V&A as models.

img_6554

Measurements in hand, the patterning was straightforward: you know how wide to made the body, the center back length you need to achieve, how wide to cut the neck hole, and how wide and how long the sleeves need to be. Really, not that hard.

You can use a diagram like this to start you off. I did wing the bottom width, guessing at the angle to give the garment a fullness similar to the chintz at the V&A.

I didn’t have quite enough fabric to accommodate the recipient’s full height, nor could I get enough of the red print lining material; I had to piece both the stripes and the lining.  Trying to match up the stripes was remarkably satisfying, both when I succeeded and when I was  little off. Life Goal: Dizzying, please.

It contrasted well with a blue woven coverlet, making a nice bright note as I prepped rooms for What Cheer Day 2016. This was the effect I had hoped to achieve waaay back in April 2016 when I failed to finish anything I wanted for the After Dark program thanks to a bout of strep throat.

Jimmie and Billie, unwell and unable to dress themselves without Gideon’s aid. Photograph by J. D. Kay

By October, though, I was able to finish the entire item and make a matching cap, allowing Billie Bowen to recuperate in style from an evening at the Cold Meat Club. I’ve drifted away from making things for other people (except to sell) in part because the Giant, heading to college, has drifted away from living history and thus occupies far less of my sewing time.

Make Mine Menswear: The finished banyan

Banyan, 1750-1775. T.215-1992, V&A Museum
Banyan, 1750-1775.
T.215-1992, V&A Museum

Banyan or wrapping gown, either will do to wear as the year winds down. This project took longer than I wanted it to, mostly because I have a tendency to take on too many things at once and promptly get sick. I like to think of this ability as a gift.

In any case, this is a simple garment to make, made more fun by piecing– it’s the challenge that keeps you awake, when the majority of the work is in teeny-tiny back stitches.

I measured the subject and made up my own pattern, using the chintz banyan in Fitting and Proper and this one at the V&A as models.

img_6554

Patterning is a simple thing, really. Maybe too simple. Measure the gentleman’s chest, bicep circumference and arm length, neck, and back length. With those, you know how wide to made the body, the center back length you need to achieve, how wide to cut the neck hole, and how wide and how long the sleeves need to be. Really, not that hard.

You can use a diagram like this to start you off. I did wing the bottom width, guessing at the angle to give the garment a fullness similar to the chintz at the V&A.

I didn’t have quite enough fabric to accommodate the recipient’s full height, nor could I get enough of the red print lining material; I had to piece both the stripes and the lining.  Trying to match up the stripes was remarkably satisfying, both when I succeeded and when I was  little off. Life Goal: Dizzying, please.

Again with the two color lining.
Again with the two color lining.

It contrasted well with a blue woven coverlet, making a nice bright note as the rooms were prepped for What Cheer Day. This was the effect I had hoped to achieve waaay back in April when I failed to finish anything I wanted for the After Dark program thanks to a bout of strep throat.

By October, though, I was able to finish the entire item and make a matching cap, allowing Billie Bowen to recuperate in style from an evening at the Cold Meat Club.

Next up, using this as the base pattern: a wool bedgown, lined in wool, and pieced. More mis-matched stripes, please!

Reflecting Fashion

Whilst serving as the commandant for a research-paper writing prison*, I spent some time perusing the Met’s digital collections, in particular the Costume Institute’s collection of Men’s Fashion Plates, because, you know, stuff.

I stopped at Plate 002, because I knew I’d seen that coat somewhere before. Why, yes: at the MFA in the Art of the Americas Wing, where I recently spent a pleasant afternoon with the Drunk Tailor. After some initial joy at discovering dust on a teapot, we got down to the business of setting off proximity alarms, reading labels, and contemplating  the occasional neck stock.

Mr Myers stopped me, though: what a handsome coat. High shoulder seams, long cuffs, buttoned all the way up. Nifty high-waisted grey trousers, too, and what seems to be a yellow waist coat. The portrait is dated 1814, and the fashion plate 1807.

Detail, 1807 fashion plate
Detail, 1807 fashion plate

Hmmmm…

Men's Wear 1790-1829, Plate 005, 1807. Gift of Woodman Thompson, Metropolitan Museum of Art
Men’s Wear 1790-1829, Plate 005, 1807. Gift of Woodman Thompson, Metropolitan Museum of Art

The brown M-notch collar coat is clearly a thing in 1807. It’s popular in 1802. So popular. 1802 on the left. On the right, 1812.

 

And our friend Sully paints one in 1814.

After seeing Copley and other early American painters use English prints as references for portraiture, I wondered if Sully was at all influenced by fashion plates, and then to what degree American men and their tailors were influenced by published fashion plates.

Portrait of the Artist. Thomas Sully, 1821. Metropolitan Museum of Art, 94.23.3

Brown coats are clearly classic: Sully’s got one himself in 1821. I’m sure there’s a dissertation out there somewhere on the influence of fashion plates on American men’s  fashion and representation in portraiture–  I can almost remember stumbling across the reference. So that echoes and re-echoes and reflects through time even as I recall not just the the folk wisdom about brown suits, but the significance of well-tailored suit. Maybe from 1802-1821, brown is the new black.

 

 

 

*Ah, teenagers. The Young Mr failed to complete a paper by the due date, so I spent some quality time ensuring he got back on track.

Proper Sewing for Proper Garments

Synchronized sewing
Synchronized sewing

Tailoring: It’s the thing, right? A well-cut, well-fitted, and well-crafted garment fits like no other. Why do you think I prefer my historical clothes? They’re fitted to me, so they feel right.

There are lots of resources, if you’re willing to dig a bit. Last year, thanks to Mr Cooke, I brought you The Taylors’ Instructor. Good stuff, right?

But wait: there’s more. So much more. Not just the V&A Tailoring Reading List. Actual media. You can watch tailors using thimbles properly, and pad stitching with grace and ease. Prepare yourself for the bona fide English accent as Rory (winner of the 2009 Golden Shears Award) Duffy teaches you a thing or two in these videos.

Just want to know about thimbles? Here’s Savile Road Training to teach you technique.