berlin work slippers

Berlin work slippers



As I explained in the post about Jarno’s berlin work slippers, I used to love needlepoint (the modern term) in a certain period of my life. When I expanded my costume hobby to the Victorian era I realized that suddenly this technique (known then as Berlin work) is something I can use. There’s a lot of lovely slippers out there in the museums and also some period patterns on the internet.

I began by making a pair for Jarno, but I had already picked a pattern I wanted to use for mine next. This pretty design was originally published in The Young Ladies Journal in 1882, now the digitized version is available by Powerhouse Museum.


berlin work pattern 1882

Some lovely person had also created a more clear stitch chart, which was much easier to follow, especially with the several different tones of red in the roses.


berlin work pattern

For the wools I again went for my stash of remains from old projects. The design had so many shades that most of them needed very little thread, especially as I used them split in half to match the canvas thread count. Even small bits turned out to be useful.




In the original design the roses seem to be bright red, but I used shades from pastel pink to raspberry to burgundy according to what I got. I had to buy one skein but that was thrifted, and for the darkest shade I used knitting yarn.




The greens all came from the stash, though the lightest shade was also a knitting yarn. I also used similar yarn for the white background. It was much cheaper than buying a lot of small skeins.




The forget-me-nots were easy, just two shades of light blue and a brighter yellow. The lighter blue thread in the picture was literally all that was left after finishing the embroidery.




The lilies of the valley were a challenge, because it’s hard to get white flowers stand out against a white background. On the other hand, if you use too strong colours they easily begin to look dirty. After some experimenting I used a mix of very pale yellow, cream, light taupe, greyish green and small bits of the backround white.




victorian berlin work slippers

The slipper pattern vs embroidery pattern

As I had already experimented with Jarno’s slippers I felt I was on firmer ground this time. I used the same embroidery canvas, which had proved excellent. I began drafting the pattern over a ballerina I had and from that moved to making a mock up and fine tuning the fit.

However, this project had a new challenge. In Jarno’s slippers I had just slapped the designs I wanted on the front and sides, but now I had a continuous shaped pattern which did not match the pattern I had made for my size. As my canvas had a certain stitch count and there’s not many options to choose from I couldn’t just scale the pattern.


victorian berlin work

What I decided to do was to begin with the separated design in the toe. It was narrower than my pattern, but I would just leave more ground on the sides. The side motifs had to be moved outwards to match the wider pattern, and I also tweaked them a bit to fit the pattern outline better.

The side motifs would also be hopelessly too short for my pattern, but after some initial planning I decided to just begin embroidering and figure out what to do with the rest once I got there.





The embroidery

This time I  had the luxury of no decided deadline, so I could work on this leisurely when I felt like it. I began with the toe design.




The frame was large enough to fit both pieces side by side, so I tried to also work by stitching the same colour and design detail on both before continuing onwards. This was especially helpful on the sides where the pattern was a mirror image on the other side, so I could work on four almost similar designs simultaneously.




In Jarno’s slippers I had, due to time constraints, ended up using a larger covering stitch for the background. This time it wasn’t really an option because the design with scrolling leaves and flower stems wasn’t as sharply defined. But as I wasn’t in a hurry now it didn’t matter. Actually, the repetitive plain background was a nice change whenever my eyes got tired from following the chart and counting the tiny threads on the canvas. I worked on it more or less steadily upwards when the motifs were being completed in that area.


victorian berlin work slippers

When I got to the sides I had to begin to plan a bit more how to adapt the pattern. As mentioned above, I moved the top ends of the side designs outwards and tweaked the big leaves a bit to fit them. I also added some forget-me-nots to fill the gap. As I moved upwards I moved the stems slightly when needed to match the pattern shape.


victorian berlin work slippers

When I got to the end of the original embroidery design I still had about 9cm to fill. I decided to flip the top part of the side design around (The rose, little bud and lilies of the valley) and join it to the same main stem.




After finishing those I still had a few centimeters to fill, so I added a curling stem with forget-me-nots at the heel.


victorian berlin work slippers

Sewing the slippers

When the embroidery was finished, I took it out from the frame, steamed it thoroughly, pulled it into shape as well as I managed and pinned it to a board. I left it there for a week just to be sure.




I was a bit anxious that the stitching had twisted it too much out of shape, as this time I was dealing with one continuous piece with no convenient extra seams for straightening. Happily the shape was surprisingly close to the pattern. I marked the slightly corrected pattern edge and balance marks.




Then I reinforced the edges with a running stitch. On the outer edge and heel seam allowances I sewed zig zag to fix the edge stitches. Then I cut out the piece.




On the top edge I turned the seam allowance under and ran a line of zig zag over the edge to secure it. Then I closed the back seam. Happily the designs ended up roughly symmetrically placed.




As with Jarno’s slippers I wanted a cotton velvet lining - it feels nice and I had leftover pieces in stash. I finished the lining edges with overlock to keep them from fraying, then tried the lining pieces on inside the embroidered top and marked the heel seam. After closing the seam I pinned them under the top and basted the layers together.




I turned the lining seam allowances under, pinned them on the edge and whip stitched the layers together. Then I finished the edge with light blue satin tape that matched the forget-me-nots close enough.




For the soles I used light greyish beige leather. A darker shade would have probably been more practical but a light color just looked so cute with the white top. I chose it for the color from what I could find at the moment, and it was much softer than the leather I had used for Jarno’s slippers. Initially I thought this would just be easier for sewing and turning the slippers inside out.





In reality, the leather tended to stretch while sewing, and I generally had more problems with  sewing the soles on than I had had with Jarno’s slippers. I had expected everything to be easier as I had already done this once, but sometimes it’s just false confidence. One thing that might have contributed to the difficulty was the difference in shoe size, a smaller heel curve is much harder to manage for example. My finished slippers fit easily inside his, which is convenient for packing, though.





Having finally managed to sew the sole on (with some retakes) I further reinforced the heel with backstitch on a stronger thread. Then I clipped the seam allowances and pressed them open.


victorian berlin work slippers

Finishing the insides followed the same method I had used for Jarno’s pair. It’s probably not period correct by far but gave a neat finish quite easily.




I had marked the sole seam line on the lining and sewed gathering threads a bit outside the line. I carefully pulled at the gathering threads and smoothed the lining in place, the seam allowances turning over the sole. Then I glued them on the sole. This was a bit tricky on the toe, but I managed somehow.




Then I cut another piece of leather with the sole pattern, trimmed it a bit smaller and checked if it fit inside the slipper as an inner sole. I glued a piece of cotton velvet over it and glued the edges on the underside. Then I glued it in place inside the slipper to cover all the mess underneath.



victorian berlin work slippers

Conclusion

The finished slippers are ridiculously cute and the final touch for my peignoir. As always, there are a few minor issues that I’m not completely happy with.

The white background is impractically delicate and it managed to darken already in the making. Also some of the pencil marks show through if you watch closely enough, though I tried to keep them light. Happily the colourful embroidery distracts the eye from this.


victorian berlin work slippers

I already mentioned the problems in assembling the slippers, and the final result isn’t as perfect as I could have hoped. The lining puckers at the heel, but then again it’s only the lining and after a bit of wear the heel will usually begin to show wear anyway.

The soft leather offered the final unwelcome surprise when I glued the insoles on - it’s so soft that the seam allowance bump shows through. But again, the sole is also likely to suffer from wear so maybe it doesn’t matter that much if it’s imperfect to begin with. Also, I generally have lower standards for my work when I’m dabbling with any kind of footwear - I’ve began with zero knowledge and just experimented with stuff, so it’s understandable if the result is light years away from professional.




The final thing which actually matters a bit more is that somehow the slippers ended up slightly too small. I can get them on my feet but I’m slightly anxious about the sole stitching holding. Of course, these are slippers, intended only for a few delicate steps, and I’m not going to actually wear them more than once or twice a year at most. Even then I live in mortal fear of spilling coffee on them.


victorian berlin work

Anyway, the main thing is that I really enjoyed the embroidery. It took ages, but it was time happily spent. Still, it’s almost sad to stuff the slippers in a storage box for most of their lives after all that work. Of course I could keep them as a home dec piece in the bedroom or sewing room, but I don’t want them to gather dust either. We’ll see if I have room for a glass case for some of my favorite accessories some day.