1880's Basque - Construction (part two)

* Karen opens door.  It creaks, and a bit of dust swirls around her feet.  Karen peeks in. *

I haven't been here in a while.  2020 has been an interesting year for everyone.  When the USA went under stay-at-home orders to try to stem the spread of Coronavirus, I spent a few months at home, sewing and relaxing and getting a much needed vacation.  I blogged a bit, then, since I had new projects to share.  But then I got a new job, and though I've been sewing, I haven't been blogging about it.  There are two reasons for that. 

My silence can be partly explained by my increasing sewing skill.  There was a time when I could make a whole blog post about a hem, but now I barely take pictures, and I find the write-up boring.  When I was a beginner, I found plenty to interest me in talking about the basics.  Now I'm more intermediate, I do the basics without thinking, and so I need to rethink how I approach my project diaries.  For instance, I've really enjoyed sewing new shirts for my brother and sister, but not blogging about them.  I've really enjoyed blogging about the Basque project because it's new territory, and I've got a lot to learn and a lot to say. 

Another reason for my silence here is that there's so much going on in my world, my mind, and my heart that I can't focus to write.  I feel like I'm swept away in deep water, and I need to keep my nose above the swells.  Later, when the waters shallow out, I can perhaps write about the parts of the experience that make sense to me.  (Or maybe, as my sister reminds me when I'm months overdue in replying to her letters, I need to just write something and let go of the need to encapsulate my whole life experience in one place!  The word "essay" means "attempt" or "trial", not "success" or "perfection", after all!)

BACK TO THE BASQUE

Anyway, here I am again, to update the Victorian Basque project.  To recap: I have a cool antique bodice, circa 1880's; I copied the pattern by drafting and by draping.  Assembly being complicated, I broke it down into six steps:

1. cut out fabric pieces
2. make trim
3. make sleeves
4. sew bodice together
5. finish bodice Seam Allowances and add boning
6. attach sleeves to bodice

I blogged last time about the first three steps.  This post will detail steps four through six. 

BODICE EXTERIOR

Every bodice piece is cut out in both the poly-cotton plaid and a cotton shirting.  I baste them together within the seam allowances, and treat the two pieces as one from there on out.  Here are the front darts being sewn, then cut and pressed open:

Because I walked all the seams on the paper pattern while developing it, the bodice pieces now go together perfectly.  Where the design takes a sharp curve, as at the waist, below, I have to clip seam allowances to get the seamlines to lie nicely together. 

Sewing side and back panels (armscye on left of picture; bodice bottom on right)

Clipped the seam allowance so the seam can be sewn. Stitching reinforced at waistline.

The plaid matches almost perfectly, and that tickles my perfectionist heart! 

I have a neck-pillow pinned to Mimi's rump to simulate a bum roll!

BODICE INTERIOR

The interior is where all the work is done.  Mimicking the original, I press every seam open.  Then, like other extant bodices I've seen online, I trim the edges in a scalloped shape and hand-finish the raw edges with whip stitches.  Then I tack the allowances down to the gray cotton to keep them from flapping about.  Oh!  Lovely! 

A few things of note from this process:

1. Cutie-Pie will appear as soon as I start hand-sewing.  I pet him, then evict him from the table. 
2. There's no need to scallop the seam allowances at the bottom of the bodice, since they'll be covered by the hem facing. 
3. In a few places, I cut the scallop too close to the seam itself.  Whoops!  I then take a few stabilizing stitches to hold it all together at that stress point.  Next time, I'll be more careful with my scissors! 
   
4. Cutie-Pie enforces a break.  I pet him some more. 

Time for the facings.  The hem facing is a funny-looking piece drafted by tracing below-the waist of every bodice piece and abutting their edges.  The finished piece matches the flared portion of the bodice when all the panels are sewn together.  It looks like a question mark.  I pin it in place, right sides together. 

For the Center front facing.  I simply lay some more gray cotton on the face of the fabric at the front, and stitch the front edge, then continue down and around the whole hem. 

But while I'm facing the Center Front, I correct a mistake I made in the drafting process.  Remember these two pictures from my bodice drafting post? 

Facings before turning right side out.

In pattern copied from extant bodice, Center Front nips in at waist then flares below the waist

When I altered the pattern to fit me, I lengthened the Center Front. But since I did that by pivoting (see how the pivot skews the line of the dart?), I accidentally straightened out that flare!

I don't want a plumb line for a Center Front, because it's not period, and I want to see how the period construction feels to wear.  So now's my moment to replace the lost flare.  Starting at the waistline, I draw a flared line out into the seam allowance, and then I sew along the chalked line. 

Ignore the stitched line at 5/8" fromt he edge. I sew along the chalked line and pick the first line of stitching out. The chalked line in my corrected flare below the waist!

I use tiny scraps of iron-on interfacing to control the fraying edges of closely trimmed corners and to add stability to floppy bits:

Hem facing on tails.

Turning the facing to the right side is the most finicky part, because the fabric is bulky and the angles often acute. It takes a while, and for that while it mostly looks like a hopeless mess!  But eventually--by dint of poking and pulling and nudging and finger-pressing and ironing--I get it right. 

Here's me trying the almost finished bodice on for size. 

Fits pretty well.  The armscye is scrunching, but that'll all be seam allowance when I attach the sleeves.  The side-back panels are scrunching, but it's too soon to tell if that's because of grainlines or because I haven't boned them yet.  But wait--what's that?  See those creases in the Center Front?  That's what I get for having two boobs!  What I need is a period-correct 1880's mono-bosom!  Lemme just stuff the front a bit...

Ah, the classic Edwardian silhouette.

Well, back to the meditative practice of hand-sewing.  With the facings to the inside, I tuck the raw edges in and fell them down, catching just the cotton flat-lining in the stitches. 

Next, I bone the bodice.  For boning, I have some spring steel, which I cut to the right length and envelope in twill tape.  I stitch the boning to the seam allowances using herringbone stitch, as in the reference garment. 

Attaching the collar is annoying and requires hand-finishing.  Realizing I forgot to put the capelet on is a bummer.  Unpicking the collar is frustrating.  Attaching the capelet and resewing the collar another annoyance.  But finally, it's done! 

And with a locker loop!

So the bodice exterior is just sewn together, with collar and capelet for contrast.  The bodice interior is flat-lined, has a hem-facing, front facing, scalloped seam allowances, boning, and a locker loop.  Maybe I should wear it inside out! 

SLEEVES TO BODICE

Putting the sleeves on is straightforward.  I already figured out by draping how I wanted the pleats to open up.  So it's just a matter of pinning the sleeves in place to make sure they hang right (the position of the elbow curve is critical), then basting them in place, then sewing them. 

The following pictures show the basque on the dressform, over an improvised bustle, to show how it was intended to be worn. 

sleeves pinned on the bodice: right side out.

sleeves basted on the bodice: inside out.

Then I try the basque on and swan around in it!  The high and tight nature of historical armscyes makes it a bit tricky to get into... I begin to understand why people helping each other into and out of coats was considered polite way back when.  It lingers as a gentlemanly affectation for a man to help a woman into her coat, but it's awkward nowadays because women don't need the help, and the man's "help" actually slows the process down because neither party knows how to do it.  But with old fashioned clothes, designed to offer maximum range of motion with a close fit, donning them is tricky; I can see why a well-dressed man needed a valet and a lady a lady's maid. 

My friend Eryn modeling the basque, front view.

Me showing off the back view, no bustle.

BUTTONS?

The only thing lacking to finish this basque is a set of buttons.  But that's another post!