Wrap it up, I’ll take it

To be honest, I would love to wrap my self up and take this silk, but it is for a museum to display, so instead the box is wrapped and ready to ship.

I was lucky to be included in a message group started by a friend asking if any of us had a banyan or wrapping gown to loan. Well, no… but I can make one!

So I did.

My version is based on this 1750-1760 example at the Victoria and Albert Museum, of silk designed by Anna Maria Garthwaite ca. 1740-1750. To be honest, this is one of my favorite gowns, despite the fact that it bears no practical relationship to any part of my daily or living history life. A girl can dream, though…

Just a little bit scary, despite being able to get more silk if I really messed up.

In particular, I like the way the style combines the t-shape of a basic banyan with the pleats used to shape European women’s gowns. Tricky, right?

Ann Shippen Willing, oil on canvas by Robert Feke, 1746. Winterthur Museum Museum purchase with funds provided by Alfred E. Bissell in memory of Henry Francis du Pont. 1969.0134 A

I made a pattern in muslin (it took two) primarily by draping, reading the V&A description, and looking at the original images as large as I could get them. By the time I had a pattern, I was mostly convinced, but still intimidated by the silk. I’ve had my eye on this ever since I saw at the local store, for it reminded me strongly of the Anna Maria Garthwaite silk worn by Ann Shippen Willing (Mrs. Charles Willing) of Philadelphia in this portrait by Robert Feke.

In the interest of economy, I machine sewed the long seams and the interior (lining) pleats, though I would not if I wear to make this for myself. Once the main seams were done, I pleated and pinned again.

Then it was time for my one of my favorite activities, hand-stitching pleats. It’s impressive how the look of a garment changes (and improves) as you continue to work on it. The fullness of the gown with the inserted pleats is pretty impressive and very satisfying to wear. It sounds fabulous as it moves with your body.

Once the gown is fully dressed on a mannequin (that is, over a shift and petticoat), I know it will assume the more correct shape of the green gown at the V&A– it looks better even on me, although it is too small, being made for a mannequin representing an 18th century woman.

Portrait of a Woman Artist, c. 1735
Oil on canvas
40 x 32 5/16 in. (101.7 x 82 cm)
Restricted gift of Mrs. Harold T. Martin in honor of Patrice Marandel, 1981.66
Art Institute of Chicago

Along the way, I found another green silk wrapping gown or banyan, this time worn by a French artist.I can guarantee you I would never wear silk to paint in, but your mileage may vary, and if I had a maidservant and unlimited cash in 1760, perhaps I would emulate the Mademoiselle at left.

Quaker Dress

Costume in Detail by Nancy Bradford, page 372.
Costume in Detail by Nancy Bradford, page 372.

I’m still struggling with the Quaker Dress conundrum, both because I want a challenge and I want to be as accurate as I can be.

So, not unlike my stubborn cat, I got an idea, and I just can’t shake it. The kind-of-cross-over, apron-front, v-neck day dress.

I’ve tried and failed before, but I got a little farther Saturday. When I went looking for the original, I was pleased to find that it had ended up at Killerton House, as part of the National Trust Collection.

You can find it here, but you can’t see it yet. 

WOMAN IN GRAY DRESS John Brewster Jr. (1766–1854) New England 1814 Oil on canvas 29 1/2 x 24 5/8 in. (sight) American Folk Art Museum, promised gift of Eric D.W. Cohler, P3.1998.1
WOMAN IN GRAY DRESS
John Brewster Jr. (1766–1854)
New England
1814
Oil on canvas
29 1/2 x 24 5/8 in. (sight)
American Folk Art Museum, promised gift of Eric D.W. Cohler, P3.1998.1

I think it may look something like the dress in this portrait, but without the collar.

Bradfield’s notes indicate that the front, sloping edge is a “fine, 1/10″ selvedge very narrow of rich dull orange saffron.” Based on this note, I have tried using the selvedge for that edge in the lining. (Better to fail on the lining than on the silk, right?)

We’ll see… the next trial will be a drawstring, just to see if I can get this business to fit.

About that Spencer…

It's better on a human than on a hanger.
It’s better on a human than on a hanger.

Take my Spencer, please.

I’m close to being finished– all that remains are closures, but the sewing is done. It fits, though I haven’t yet tried it on over stays.  It looks less wretched in the mirror than it does on a hanger, I will give it that.

The wool is a yard and a quarter worsted remnant, and while it has a nice hand, it was sometimes annoying to press. It may have been the fault of the silk, though; I used a very light weight silk–even lighter than Booth’s “persians”– and that was probably a mistake.

DSC_0405
Last-minute peplum and button additions.

The Swedish Spencer closes with clasps, and while hooks and eyes are pretty common for center-closing garments (men’s and women’s) “clasps” was new to me. The double-breasted riding habit coat in Janet Arnold (from the Salisbury Museum, no photos online) closes with covered buttons. That seems reasonable for this worsted trial garment. I’m beginning to wonder if the Swedish Spencer is really finished, or if the clasps might be a later addition. Time to write a letter, I think…