At one point in my youth I loved black lace, corsets and the like gothy aesthetic, though I have never been a member of the subculture in any way. An all black late victorian style dress would have been my daydream, and I actually made something in that line as a school project for my sister. Of course, that was not even attempting to be historically accurate and technically it's a product of my skill level of that time.




Many, many years later when I embarked on my Natural Form Era adventure most of my original project plans were in colours (though, agreed, on a rather limited palette). Of course, historically speaking, black was an extremely popular colour on the era, not only limited to mourning wear as many people seem to think. And no matter what era, it’s always a stylish choice.





One particular source of inspiration was also, again, some paintings by James Tissot, depicting a lady dressed in black against a background of golden autumn leaves.



 

The vague idea finally found a concrete form in a dress illustration and accompanying pattern in Frances Grimble’s book “Fashions of the Gilded Age”, volume 1. The ultra stylish design included an interesting layered cut in the back. I also thought that a more tailored, streamlined style might be a nice change from my last big Natural Form project, the ruffle and bow decked “Directoire” dress. (The obligatory pleated ruffles on the skirt edge don’t count on this period).




The dress description recommended using “light and dark brown damask on the polonaise” and “brown grosgrain” for the skirt. The details might not be so striking on a more subdued black-on-black colour scheme. On the other hand, a solid black dress might do with some detail.




I had already found the perfect materials: Wool cloth with woven satin stripe and another plainer and more sturdy wool cloth for skirt and front panel. I thought that the combination with piping in black silk would work for the design. The only problem was that the plain wool was too heavy and stiff for the ruched front panel. (Though confusingly, in the illustration it looks ruched, but the text calls it pleated)

So, as I’m in the habit of doing, I strayed away from the original source and wandered off on my own. I found some fashion illustrations with a front panel that seems to have vertical pleats, and in many cases with straps or cutouts on the main bodice material on the top.











By a more careful examination of one of my main inspiration paintings I noticed that it had exactly this construction, more visible in the sketches for the painting and some others with the same dress.




I thought that the pleats would work well in the stiffer wool that held a well ironed pleat very well. While the painting dress had straight buttoned straps I thought that more triangular ones would match the dress back cut better.

While the design was already clear in my mind, I wanted to make the skirt at least to a semi-finished state before drafting the final overdress pattern, so I could fit the mock ups with that.   



The base pattern was the same as in my (also Tissot painting inspired) ruffle-decked blue day dress, I only shortened the train a bit. Although I had planned the black woollen day dress to be used in the colder season, I absolutely wanted to keep at least a short train, impractical as it would be in rainy and muddy weather. A short skirt would have absolutely ruined the design.




The back of the skirt should be rather fitted in keeping with the slim line of the overdress. I pleated the back panel in larger pleats than usual. I also got the idea that the pleats might match the front panel as they would peek out from the cutout on the overdress. This meant that they had to be uneven width on the inside to make the outside look evenly pleated. I did a bit of math on this, and it worked in theory, although I found out later that the pleats should have reached further on the side to match the wide cutout.




All my other skirts have either a drawstring of some kind of button arrangement at knee level that can be opened, but this time I decided the best option would be to stitch the pleats down into a sturdy tape. The wool is rather wrinkle-resistant and can easily be steamed, so it doesn’t necessary have to be laid straight for storage and ironing. Above this there are the usual couple of buttoned elastic straps in the side seams to keep the back fullness in place.
 



Unlike in the original design I decided that two rows of knife pleated ruffles (called kilting in the period) instead of three. I put a facing of densely woven cotton-poly blend poplin under them, and turned the hem with a tape.




Making a basic skirt with minimal decoration, mostly covered by the overdress was at this point so familiar that it went rather smoothly.





The woollen fabric in itself felt rather durable and the colour would not show slight stains, but still I wanted a heavier balayeuse than usual. I also chose to make it in black. White cotton can be bleached when it gets muddy, but it looks really dirty before that and gets soaked in a second (though a thorough starching might help with this).




The balayeuse is in two parts, the straight one for the front and a separate back piece that’s buttoned to the side-back seams and the tape that fixes the pleats. The latter is in a double layer of durable poplin, which is also slightly water-repellent. The hem is reinforced with the same poly tape as the skirt hem. The kilted ruffle at the edge is also double-layered with a heavy black torchon lace that just covers the edge without extending outside it. The pleats are stitched down about 5cm from the edge for easier ironing after washing.




When the skirt was finished I began on the much more complicated overdress.






I based the overdress pattern on the Directoire dress. The long, fitted bodice only needed full length side seams to work as a beginning base. To my surprise the original pattern didn’t seem to have a side seam all the way down, only a slash where the top side back pieces should obviously be inserted. I thought this would be an insane mess to make, so I chose to
make normal side seams instead.

The back seams, of course, would have to be drafted into a different shape and a front panel added. The extra advantage of the front panel was that I could place some of the bust shaping into the seam, and of course one of the waist darts.




The sleeve pattern also came almost straight from the Directoire pattern, I only drafted it narrower at the bottom and added a cuff shaped roughly like the one in the book.




At the back I modelled the pattern after the book, but didn’t scale and copy it outright. The original pattern was still invaluable, of course, in getting an idea of all the pieces that went into the dress and their basic shape.

I drafted the main shaping seams to match the Directoire dress fit and sketched the trimming pieces, fine tuning them on the mock up version on a dummy. Compared to the original illustration and pattern some of the pattern proportions had to be altered slightly.




The side back piece corners that meet at the middle are probably joined by tacking or hook and eye (The book text only tells to “join them”). I folded the corners to meet at the point where the skirt pleats are stitched down. As the overdress inevitably moves when worn I thought that it could cover the pleat fastening a bit more, so I experimented with pinning the corners to overlap. As the lower edge would have decorative buttons anyway, I thought that I could make the top buttonhole functional and button the corners together. A single button would allow the pieces to move and turn a little in use, and would be easy to open for dressing up and storing.




This tweak of course altered the shape of the cutout over it a little, but I thought it didn’t change the original design too drastically. The lower part of the shaped side back piece also deviates from the original design. I wanted to lift the potentially fraying hem fringe a bit higher from the ground, so I had to shorten the whole overdress including the back pieces. This changed the shape, which is not as elongated now. In retrospect I could have left the tapering edge a bit longer. But I don’t think the final cut looks too unbalanced in itself, and the fashion illustrations of the period often have unrealistic proportions anyway.




Yet another change I made on the back was to leave out the fringe on the triangular skirt trimming piece, as it would have covered most of the buttoning on the main piece edge.




On the front side I tested the placement and shape of the buttoned flaps over the pleated panel with fabric scraps. I placed the top one on bust level to create a kind of imitation neckline. I also shaped the front panel a bit more curved to create an hourglass shape.







I did my best to be very precise on drawing the final pattern, since there were a lot of pieces to match and not much room for further adjustment in the fitting. Especially getting the triangular flaps on the curved front panel look equal in distance and proportion needed some brainwork and calculation. The end result turned out quite nice, though.

Unlike one might assume, on the period dressmakers don’t seem to have been very experimental in cutting striped materials, and the chevron v-shape that you see a lot in movie costuming doesn’t seem to have been common (This is based on my cursory look through museum pieces, if someone has looked deeper into this I would be really interested to learn more). Anyway, I couldn’t resist the temptation to play around with the stripe direction in the layered cut.




On the back trimming pieces I placed the stripe to follow the triangular lower edges, which resulted in a practically bias cut. The real back piece underneath is cut in the straight grain. The skirt trimming piece on the sides is also cut with the stripe following the slanted top edge.




On the front the buttoned flaps are cut on the straight grain following the bodice, but I took care to get the stripe to match at the button.







After cutting I began, as usual, by basting all the necessary balance marks and guidelines I might need. Then I also basted the cotton twill interlining on the bodice pieces (save the front panel) down to the hip level.

I had already experimented with the period method of padding the bodice in the side-bust / upper armhole area in the Directoire dress, and liked the smooth (if unnatural) line it produced. While this time I had the advantage of placing some of the bust shaping into the front panel seam I still decided to add some padding to fill the natural hollow space between bust and shoulder / upper arm. I tacked a couple of layers of wadding on the interlining and covered them with cotton batiste before basting the interlining on the wool cloth.





The soft striped wool needed a lot of additional bits and pieces of supportive material, especially on the bias cut edges. On the shaped side-back pieces I basted a strip of cotton organdy on the lower edge where the buttonholes would go. The triangular piece on the top would be attached only by buttons, so I added another strip of organdy on the line where the buttons would be sewn. As it will be hidden in the finished dress I stitched in on my machine.




On the bias edges, later to be finished with piping I basted an about 1,5cm wide strip of soft muslin to give some light protection against stretching.




I interlined the top back pieces with the same muslin. It seemed like a good idea to cut it in straight grain to keep the bias cut wool in shape. In the end I was not so sure about this, but more on that later. Anyway, the muslin worked well in preventing the heavy piping seam allowances from showing through on the outside.

On the front panel button flaps I gleefully abandoned authentic methods, though. There were so many of them that I opted for modern fusible interlining instead of individually basted and whip stitched organdy or canvas. When I had already given in I also used fusible interlining for the collar and cuffs.




For the piping I used machine woven silk dupioni that I have plenty of in stash. The filling is chunky soft wool yarn. I’m not good with piping, something that became painfully obvious to me with the directoire dress, and maybe the stiff dupioni also wasn’t the most forgiving of materials. Or maybe I just didn’t manage to cut it exactly on bias.




After getting all the interlining in place I began the actual sewing from the front button flaps. First I made cardboard patterns for all the differently shaped pieces, which were very useful in cutting and marking the pieces and interlinings.




I basted the piping on the edges, following the interlining line and clipping the seam allowance in identical places in each. Despite this preliminary work I had to fix a few places after sewing, but for the most part I managed to stitch the piping on the right shape.




The cotton satin lining would no doubt have been neater if it had been slip stitched on, but as it wouldn’t show when the dress was on I swallowed my perfectionism and resorted to bag lining to save time. It looks mostly decent enough.




After all the layers were in place I slipped the cardboard pattern under the top layer and ironed the flaps in shape. The cardboard both pushed the piped edge properly in shape and prevented the heavy seam allowances from showing through the soft and yielding wool.

I ran the outer edges with overlock to keep them from fraying. I clipped a hole in the cardboard pattern to mark the button and buttonhole placement. Only the top 4 of the buttonholes are functional, the bottom ones are decorative. I still left a tiny hole for the button shank to get the button placed snugly.




The pleated front panel took a lot of time. Possibly it could have been done with less work, but I wanted to make extra sure the result  would be neat and even.

I had chosen to make 1,5cm pleats towards the center front so that the front opening would be disguised between them. I used a sturdy bedsheet cotton for the base, and cut both that and the wool with generous width just in case.




I basted all the pleat lines and also a couple of vertical ones to make sure the pleats would stay exactly on the grainline. I began from the center front outwards. First I stitched the wool on the base so that the stitching would be covered by the pleat, then pressed the pleat following the basted line, then stitched the fabric in the base again.




Pressing and stitching the pleats individually took a lot of time, but the end result was neat and even. For the last thing I removed the basted guideline threads and ironed the finished pleating thoroughly though a wet cloth and then let it dry overnight. The pleats set in very firmly in the wool cloth and will probably stay in shape forever.




I joined the separate pieces at the bottom and ironed the ample allowances I had left to turn on the underside. Then I placed the front panel pattern over the pleated pieces and marked the edges. I stitched the edge lines and horizontal lines that would end up under the flaps.





On the narrower waistline and neckline I unpicked some of the pleats near the seam line and trimmed the underside a bit thinner. Then I trimmed the seam allowance to 2cm and ran them over with overlock.




From my first hook-and-eye closed dress I had learned the hard way that the hooks indeed stay closed most securely if every other is sewn on a different side, unless of course the garment is really tight fitting. Now I was a bit wiser. After sewing the hooks and eyes I slip stitched the allowance on the base all the way down. I also added a flap of the top material under the closure in case the opening would gap.

The button flaps were easy to sew in place following the horizontal stitch lines. After that I basted the piping in the seamline.




Sewing the stiff, multilayered front panel to the side-front pieces was even surprisingly tricky. It went alright on the interlined bodice but the so far single layered hem seemed to always either bag or stretch. And then there was the extra challenge of getting the piping in even width. The seam needed many takes and a lot of fixing in some places, but finally I decided that a careful ironing would have to do the rest. Happily the piping was black against black, a thing I was to be grateful for many times to come.




The seam allowances were naturally thick, and it seemed that the only way to finish them was to sew a wide bias strip on the right side, turn it under and whip stitch the underside. It looks really tacky compared to the opened and narrowly bound dart allowances next to it, but can’t be helped. Simple whip stitching was also out of the question since the striped wool practically oozed black fluff all around.




Getting the piping continuous had a large part in planning the construction. At the backside the triangular top pieces on the sides were of course easy to finish alone down to the buttonholes, but the rest needed some planning.

On the side-back piece I basted the piping on the edge (after basting the various reinforcing strips) all the way from shoulder to side seam. Only then I sewed the waist dart.

I stitched the cotton satin lining on the upper part of the back edge up to the bodice interlining, where I just basted it on the hipline. I left it open at the slanted lower edge at this point, only basting it in place close to the edge so that I could add the fringe in between later. At this point it would only be on the way.




Then I worked the buttonholes, the top one opened and the rest just with a tiny hole for the button shank. After finishing them I removed the basting at the edge again and cut off the extra organdy between the buttonholes, as I had some kind of notion that it might alter the bias edge drape in use. It had been more than necessary to get the buttonholes neat, though.




I finally finished the lower edge by sewing the fringe on the piping edge, turning the seam allowance under and slip-stitching the lining in place. Then I placed the top trimming piece over the side-back piece and basted it on following the basted line and stitched it on the side seam. It would be secured later with buttons, but I thought that at this point they might be in the way when sewing the side seams.




I sewed the short center back piece on the practically finished side back pieces. Again the piping added an extra challenge, and I’m not 100% happy with the result. I finished the bulky seam allowances by the same method as the front panel seams.




As mentioned earlier, I had basted a soft muslin interlining cut on the straight grain on the back trimming pieces. It made matching the stripe in the center back a bit tricky, but on the other hand it kept the seams from stretching out of shape very well. I checked that the width matched the final width of the back piece (with the piping added), and then basted and sewed the piping on the edges.





I lined the lower piece with cotton satin, but on the top one only the bottom part. Then I pinned them on according to the basted lines. The bottom piece was easy, and I stitched it on the back piece by hand at the piping edge.




The top piece proved more difficult. It might have slightly changed shape from the pattern in the making, as the surrounding pieces might also have done. I had to get the distance between the piping edges even and symmetrical, and on top of that make sure that the bias piece would not pull in any direction. That didn’t go so great. Maybe the interlining should have been in bias too, maybe I should have been more careful in basting and sewing the piping. I ironed, basted, sewed and unpicked the piece many, many times. I ended up trying to fix it again at the later stage too before deciding that bias is a bitch and it would have to do.




The back was now almost finished, and I finally sewed the side-back piece with the triangular top piece on the straight skirt piece mostly hidden under the top layers. Then I closed the side seams.




Now that the whole hem was joined I sewed the continuous piping on the hem and back edges and added the fringe on the hem.

The fringe with tassels I had found was not exactly similar to the one in the original dress illustration, but looked decently period from a distance. Unlike most fringes it was in polyester rather than viscose, which makes it look cheaper but would probably prove more durable. At first it seemed like the fringe ends would not begin to unravel like slippery spun viscose ones usually do, but on a closer look I noticed that the fringes were made in a knitted tube and would unravel fast if caught on something.




The fringe was a bit too long anyway, and the ends were uneven, so after trimming it even I carefully melted the ends. This dirty trick worked great in black polyester.




After adding the fringe I ironed the seam allowances to turn under. I left a wide allowance on the front panel hem and whip stitched it in place before covering it with a strip of the lining.




I joined the side seam on the hem lining (the same cotton satin) and basted it in place on the side-front piece and bottom side-back layer. I guess it could have been bag lined on the edges, but I wanted it to match the top layers exactly so I slip stitched it on. Then I finally whip stitched the bottom layer of the side back hem on the bodice interlining. For the last thing I sewed the top edge of the hem lining on the bodice interlining. Then I sewed on all the buttons at the back.




Until now I had tried to keep the dress laid flat as long as possible. The shoulder seams and collar followed next. The simple sleeves with basic cuffs had nothing special to report, and setting them went rather easy.

It was the time to congratulate myself about finishing the dress despite the small imperfections. I made a flamboyant hat to wear with it and arranged a photoshoot in the autumn.




But not so fast! Somehow, being impatient to finish the dress, doing final fittings in bad light peeking over my shoulder or I don’t know what I had failed to notice that the back fit was ghastly. This was cruelly revealed in the photographs, and the heavy construction with all the piping made it even more glaring. Maybe I had messed something up in the cutting, as the left shoulder and armhole were cut way too high while it’s actually my right shoulder that’s lower. I should have noticed that something was wrong when fitting the sleeves at least. Needless to say, I was really, really pissed off at myself. I had set my heart on getting that back with all the detail as perfect as possible.




I decided that if I left the dress as it was I would come to regret it later, so before thinking further I furiously ripped off the sleeves, collar and shoulder seams. After a few nights sleep I put the dress on again, fitted the shoulders more carefully and ended up lowering much of the shoulder line and left side armhole surprisingly much. Then I shortened the collar and sewed it back with the sleeves.




I had to wait until the next year for the Tissot-inspired autumn photoshoot I had set my heart on, and luckily we managed to arrange time for it. I didn’t have any use for the dress in the meantime, anyway, as I seem to have developed a habit of making more outfits than I have occasion for using. I have grown lazy to leave home, especially when I have low energy levels and have to travel for events (or, God forbid, wake up early on the weekends for it).



I’m totally in love with the style and cut, and I think it works great in black. The small imperfections in construction still annoy me a little, but there are always those small things that I usually forget quickly after the initial misgivings. The back may still look too long unless I keep a very fixed posture, but that’s only natural.

The hat I made to complete the outfit turned out bordering on ridiculous in size, but let’s just call it a statement piece.

I have to note, though, that my enthusiasm for bodice padding may have gone a bit overboard too. It was also apparent in the Directoire dress, but honestly my bosom looks about three times or more in size than in my everyday bra. But then again, not only the bodice padding is period technique but there were also advertisements for all kinds of “bust improvers”. And I have curvy hips, so balancing them simply looks good.




I had made the bodice in a comfortable fit, not needing very tight corset lacing. It’s quite comfortable to wear, and also warm in the colder season. Only the sleeves are too thin for much warmth, but a long sleeved t-shirt underneath would partly fix that. A period-correct sleeved merino combination underwear would be even better. I also have plans for a matching dolman from the leftover materials, but that may have to wait.

So, technically it might even work as a winter outfit, although not a very practical one due to the train. For possible skating or snowball fights I’ll have to make something else.