I have been binge-watching Poirot, a British murder mystery series, wherein actor David Suchet gets to explore and reprise the role of Agatha Christie's Belgian detective over the course of seventy episodes, from 1989 to November 2013.  Each episode is interesting, but Poirot's character arc over the whole series is quite interesting, too.  Amazingly, when you consider how many years the series ran, how many production teams and writers came and went, and even a change of studios and format midway through, there's is good continuity and a consistent timeline.  The earliest we see of Poirot is in the late 1920's, when he arrives in England as a refugee from WWI Belgium, and the latest we see is in the 1949, when he dies.  However, most episodes are set in the world of 1936. 

A little over two months ago, I began self-isolating at home, doing my (admittedly easy and small) part to curb the spread of Coronavirus.  I am blessed with many advantages: I live with a roommate and cats, so I'm not lonely; I am collecting unemployment benefits, so I'm not broke; and I have a whole house and decent-sized yard to play in, so I'm not cramped.  Today I'll take stock. 

The selvedge of fabric is the edge which is finished during the weaving.  Here's a diagram of a basic weaving: the black threads, which run up and down in the loom, are the warp threads.  The red thread, running back and forth, over and under the black threads, is the weft thread or woof thread. 

If you've ever tried your hand at weaving, then you know that if you pull the weft threads too tight, that makes the warp threads clench in the center, and your weaving turns out more like an hour glass than a rectangular strip!  This is how I remember the names for the threads... the up and down threads are the warp because they're the ones that'll get warped if you weave too tight.  The weft threads are the ones you weave through the others, so they get woven, or get weft. 

Now, since the weft thread turns and retraces its steps at the end of every row, that creates a clean-finished edge called a selvedge, which is a contraction of "self edge".  The selvedge is tidy and strong.  It's also useful! 

As before, I look at the Burda 7880 pattern and my sloper, just to see what normal sleeves look like.  As these are not a good base for the historical sleeve, I must drape.  

As before, I have standardized my vocab for clarity in this post: the extant bodice from the 1880's is the reference garment or reference, and what I'm making with it is the new pattern​.  

Remember this antique basque bodice, which I have been wanting to copy?  Today, I'll talk about getting a pattern for it. 

My interest in the project is in improving my patterning skills, practicing historical construction techniques, and making myself a Victorian-style top for everyday wear.  My biggest challenge, I predict, will be the sleeves. 

I'm not attempting an exact replica.  For one thing, I don't have the right fabrics (silk taffeta and silk burnout velvet), and for another, burgundy is NOT my color!  But I do want the pattern as accurate as practical. 

Today I am exhibiting a long-buried treasure... long-buried in a drawer, that is.  It's an extant bodice from the late Victorian era, in poor condition, but useful for study and delightful merely by its existence!  It was given to me by my aunt, who shares my interest in historical clothing.  The garment is a basque (rhymes with "mask"), which is a fitted bodice that extends down over the hips, covering a little of the top of the skirt. 

An A-line skirt--even a delightful, swishy one--is really just a vertical seam or two, zipper, waistband, and hem.  Rather than show every step in detail, I will focus today on two interesting aspects of this project: drafting a skirt pocket for a pattern that doesn't have pockets; and doing the waistband with a Hong Kong finish.  A few other details of interest will be briefly touched, but not lingered, on. 

I use two fabrics in this project: a khaki-colored polyester gabardine and a lightweight polyester lining with a red, sort-of Japanese print. 

The pattern calls for only two panels (front and back), with a side closure.  I choose to add a Center Back seam because I prefer back zippers to side ones, and I want to put pockets in the sides. 

After finishing this skirt, I had a bit of leftover fabric, and thought I'd made a beret for myself.  I found a tutorial on YouTube, and whipped the thing up in an evening. 

In the end, I didn't like it and stuck it straight in the Goodwill pile.  Nevertheless, here's the making-of documentation, so I can do better next time!