The occasion of a costume-party wedding finally gives me an opportunity to wear and photograph the short stays I made to wear under my Regency dresses.  So prepare yourself for awkward self-photography in historical underwear! 

This project is from 2015.  I was working on a Regency wardrobe because I wanted to participate in Oregon Regency Society events. 

Remember this picture?  Besides my nightcap, I'm wearing a yellow quilted bed jacket given to me by a friend.  Bed jackets used to be a thing, before central heating became the norm, and they are really useful for lounging around if, like me, you're chronically chilly!  Mine is probably from the fifties or sixties.  It's made of some sort of loud synthetic (loud as in it scratches and rustles against itself like taffeta or cheap acetate).  It being older than me to start with, it didn't stand up to more than two years of my use and occasional washing; the batting went flat and various spots wore away and shredded.  

So I decide to take a pattern from it and make new!

The BBC's miniseries A Stitch in Time is a treat for anyone interested in historical costuming.  Fashion historian Amber Butchart "explores the lives of historical figures through the clothes they wore," aided by historical costumer Ninya Mikhaila.  Amber selects a work of art with an interesting garment, and Ninya and her team recreate it using authentic methods, while Amber studies the person, the era, et cetera.  In the end, Amber (lucky girl!) gets to wear the newly made clothing! 

The difference between the sheen of silk and the shininess of polyester is like the difference between white gold and chrome: one softly smiles at you, the other wolf-whistles to get your attention. 

When I see a polyester charmeuse, I'm often tempted to use the wrong side to cut down on shininess, but even the shiniest silks, like silk satins or charmeuses, still have a gentler look than polyester versions of the same.  How come? 

When I was designing the 1919 dress, I explained the difference between draping to work up a pattern (which is what I've done before on live people) and draping merely to give the illusion of clothing in order to display fabric.  Today's post highlights the latter definition. 

I work at a fabric store, and one of my job duties is to drape displays to better sell fabrics.  I enjoy this part of my job very much! The task starts with picking some fabric or color scheme.  Then I cut yardage... there needs to be at least a yard, but often more, because when the display is dismantled, we need to be able to sell that yardage.  For a dress, I start with at least two yards, and can go up to three if the dress is long and detailed. 

First, a picture of a delicious galette I made, all from locally foraged fruit and fancy cheese from the store!  The dough is a simple olive oil and flour mixture (though I added almond meal).  The filling is layers of thinly sliced apples fallen on the sidewalk, figs from a neighbor's tree, and a sweet soft cheese.  Gotta love Portland's summer! 

Today I am shortening the sleeves of a lined Tahari (brand) jacket.  It's made of a poly/rayon/spandex blend in an unbleached linen color, and fully lined with polyester. 

When I look at my life over the past few years I see two streams of thought: thoughts of God/faith/Christianity, and thoughts of clothes/sewing/external presentation.  To many, these would seem incompatible.  Doesn't Christianity frown on thinking too much about clothes?  Or, in some denominations, doesn't Christianity obsess about clothes in a censorious way that denies wearers any joy in their raiment?