Next I moved on to the waistcoat. I had cut wide interlining pieces on the front edges and further reinforced their curved edges with a straight strip of cute, 2cm wide on the buttonhole side and 4cm wide on the buttoning side. I also tacked interlining pieces on the pocket places and the side vent edge. For the waistcoat lining I chose a cream colored linen.

I began with the back pieces, which I made of two layers of linen. Like in the silk waistcoat I added pieces of fashion fabric on the back vent edges and neck, which might peek out under the coat. On the bottom layer of linen I sewed pieces of linen band to reinforce the back vent edges where the lacing eyelets would be. I bag lined the back pieces joined at the top, leaving the top and the side seams open. Then I packed them in my handbag for hand-stitching the edges and making the eyelets. I had recently grown very lazy on my coffee breaks and public transport time, slipping into reading (too often very mediocre literature) instead of sewing, but if I was ever going to finish this suit I'd better work on it every single day.

 18th century man's suit: waistcoat

To my great delight the buttonhole thread had finally arrived in the shop when I had almost finished the breeches (I was so overjoyed that I bought them flowers). I bought two bolts at once just to be sure I'd have enough, and attacked the pocket flaps.

This time I wanted to make the decorative buttonholes before attaching the lining, which really made much more sense. I had first basted the fashion fabric on the interlining, then pressed the seam allowances to turn over the interlining edges and sewed them on the interlining. Now I could begin making the buttonholes, following the basted lines. Less layers made the work easier, and I didn't have to worry about getting the underside neat. For the last thing I sewed on the lining with stitching through the edge. Previously I had left the top edge of the pocket flap open and sewed the fashion fabric on the waistcoat by machine and then the top edge of the lining by hand on the underside. It sounds tricky, which it is too. Now I realized that it would be far easier to make up finished pocket flaps and then attach them to their place by a simple row of hand stitching with a bit of extra stitches to secure the edges. Another little step away from the modern machine sewing logic! 		18th century man's suit: waistcoat
So, with both the back and the pocket flaps prepared and scheduled for coffee breaks and social gatherings (not to mention a weekend in a Carolean army camp) it was time for the larger front pieces. Already when making the first suit I had had a faint inkling of the period method of making buttonholes before lining the suit and when putting on the lining later sewing it on the buttonhole edges, but it had sounded a little laborious and intimidating so I had just made the buttonholes on the finished coat and imagined I had saved myself a lot of trouble. This time I decided to get more ambitious and give it a try, especially as most of the buttonholes would be purely decorative and as they extended all the way to the bottom the undersides might actually show in wear if worked through the lining too.
After tacking the interlinings on I began the buttonholes from the bottom upwards. When I got to the opened ones I first sewed a row on machine stitch around them, then cut them open and reinforced the edges with zigzag. My poor old much used zigzag machine didn't manage to get the stitches tight enough, so I made them while visiting my parents on my Mom's machine (The first sewing machine I have used in my life, by the way).

So far so good, but when I began to cover these reinforcing stitches on the buttonhole thread I realized that I had made the decorative ones at the bottom edge more narrow. I did not want to remake my reinforcing stitching narrower as I was afraid that the loosely woven interlining might break if stitched too near the edge. So I made them as I had planned, then took a critical eye and finally decided that the contrast to the narrower buttonholes was too visible, therefore the latter had to go. I carefully picked out the thread and remade them roughly as thick as the opened ones.




I had already taken a liking to the more slender buttonholes and at first the new ones looked too heavy, but as I did not dare to make the opened buttonholes slimmer there was no other way. At this stage the pocket flaps were already finished, with buttonholes of the slimmer variety, but as they did not sit directly next to front buttonholes I left them alone. Well, happily I encountered the problem already with the waistcoat before beginning the coat.  

Next I made the triangular pocket opening, reinforced the edges with hand stitching and then sewed on the other layer of the pocket bag, and for the last thing attached the pocket flap. I had very stupidly cut the pocket interlining to stop just just before the buttons, so I sewed pieces of linen band on the underside to support the large buttons.



Which brings us to the matter of the buttons. The larger buttons for the coat and waistcoat were much nicer to make than the smaller ones. Along with the pocket edge of the breeches the buttons were the only parts of the project where I made use of unforgivably modern iron-on interfacing. I was too afraid the tiny seam allowances on the tightly gathered button tops would fray without. I also added a piece of thick but soft wool for padding between the button and the top layer, which made them nicely rounded. Tracing the pieces, cutting them and ironing the interfacings took some time for the total 68 buttons. Then I could always keep some pieces and buttons in my sewing purse until they were all covered.

I tried to improve my technique from the breeches buttons by gathering the edge regularly (it was made easy by the pattern) and then joining the ridges that had formed. On the larger button the allowances had more space, but the underside still became quite thick.

To continue about the waistcoat, after finishing the pockets it was time to put a lining on the fronts. The whole matter of lining this suit had caused me some headaches, mainly concerning what to use for it. The decision was simple for the breeches but the coat was the main problem. In the Costume Close Up suit, and most of other sources I've studied the coat is described lined in silk except the top part of the back (and possibly sleeves too) with linen, as the latter won't show when the coat is worn. My problem was what to use for the “silk” part.

     

    

My textile knowledge of the period is not very strong when it comes to what the textiles of the period actually were like (apart from fiber content), the feel, the weight etc, having seen most of the originals only from photographs or from some distance behind a glass. As my fashion fabric, the upholstery viscose was not that stiff I thought it could use some backing from the lining added to the interlinings. My budget did not allow a silk taffeta lining, which would of course be insane with a cheaper fashion fabric too, and polyester taffeta would be too stiff, not very nice to work with and would not breathe at all. Modern ultra thin lining satin is too flimsy, and the bit heavier viscose one used for coats etc can be annoying to work with too. I had in my mind some sort of combination of the flimsy lining backed with linen, but then I happened to find a length of heavier satin (probably viscose) at my favorite second hand shop. It was in a perfect cream shade. I decided to use it, possibly backed with linen at some parts on the coat. I could, however, decide on the coat later.

The Costume Close Up waistcoat (No 17, Suit coat, waistcoat and breeches, dated 1765-1790) is lined mostly with linen but has silk facings at the front edges and skirts. This seemed to me a very neat way of doing things, as especially the top corners easily turn up with the shirt ruffles and a satin lining would look nice there. I did, however decide to leave out the skirt facings with this longer waistcoat.

The picture of the open waistcoat shows most frustratingly only the button side of the lining, so there is no clue how the buttonhole part was actually finished. I have read before vague descriptions of “cutting the lining open at the buttonholes and sewing it on their edges”, which sounds to me courting fraying. I've seen it work well in woollen military garments, but there is no way I'm going to try that for viscose satin. Happily the brilliant “At the Sign of The Golden Scissors”-blog happened to post about riding habits with a clear photograph of the “pieced facing”-technique, where the lining is cut on separate pieces joined at the ends of the buttonholes. So, that was what I would do.

In a perfect world where all measurements are exact and all pieces magically match I might have been able to join the pieces by machine and just leave the seam open at the right part, but in this reality I thought that no matter how carefully I'd cut them all the pieces would not settle perfectly between their buttonholes without some adjusting and re-sewing, so I sewed them on the interlining and the buttonhole stitch by hand one by one. This of course took some time, but the meticulously neat result was well worth the effort.

I pinned the rest of the facing and attached it on the front edges with hand stitching through all layers. I used a row of stab stitches, here and elsewhere in the suit, as the proper “Le point a rabattre sous la main”-stitch is hard to make through the heavy interlining. After the facing came the rest of the linen lining. On the shoulder I pinned it just a bit smaller than the fashion fabric to follow the curve of the shoulder. On the shoulder and side seams I just machine stitched the seam allowances together.


The fronts and back being now both finished it only remained to join them. On the silk waistcoat I had sewed the back piece between the two layers of fronts at shoulder and side seam, which had resulted in a giant bulky seam allowance at the shoulder seam ends as the front pieces curve out. Now I tried to join them the other way around. I had left the side seams and the shoulder-neckline-part open at the back, and now sewed the front piece on the top layer of the back. Then I pressed the seam allowances to turn towards the back piece and the back neck allowances to turn under. Then I pinned the bottom layer of the back with the seam allowances turned under, just covering the machine stitch, and at the neck to turn a few millimetres from the edge. 
I finished the neck by hand and added a cotton band to prevent it from stretching. I have no idea if the latter was used in the period, but it seemed like a goof idea to me. For the last thing I top-stitched all the seams to fix the lining. The result looks neat also from the inside.

The waistcoat was thus finished. As said, I had trusted my well-prover pattern and had not had a single fitting while making it. Now it turned out that I had obviously picked an older version of the back piece pattern without the back lacing, as the edges came together with no gap in between. Well, of course it looks nice and neat without a gap, but it kind of makes the lacing useless as means of adjusting the size smaller. Jarno assured me, though, that at this stage of life he is not likely to lose weight. Anyway, despite this the waistcoat looks quite was it should be.

The Saga of the Green Suit is continued in page 4 >>