Wool jacket, 2020
For several years now I have not really been hanging out in
military camps or even been to 18th century faires much, so I
haven't had much use for "relaxed" or lower class wardrobe. Still,
I have for a long time admired simple, unadorned outfits which can
look really graceful, as seen in early seasons of Outlander or the
famous "La Belle Chocolatiere"- painting by Jean Étienne Liotard.
Finally a coming "winter evening in a tavern" - type of event
kicked me into actually putting this outfit together. The main
thing was to make the pretty little jacket.
I had found this fabric from the pretty much
only medieval faire of summer 2020, and when I saw the bolt the
idea of this jacket came to my mind for the first thing. It's
very soft, thin wool, and the color, a dull cornflower blue is
both subdued enough for the look I wanted and also one of my
favorite colors. I had no shortage of matching sewing threads is
my stash!

Choosing the style
I wanted a simple, unadorned jacket with preferably a front
lacing. Not only does front lacing give that classic romantic,
rustic look, but its also very convenient when you might want to
lace your stays looser from time to time.
The "Costume Close Up" book (Baumgarten & Watson with Carr)
has this charming printed calico jacket with a pattern which
pretty much everyone has used, and for a good reason. I have
also dabbled with it in the past, using it as a base for my printed
cotton jacket, though I ended up altering it heavily.
I made it rather hurriedly with a very hasty fitting, and it
ended up a bit loose for me, though wearable. It has
nevertheless served well to be loaned out to event musicians or
newcomers who need a slightly larger size than the rest of my
wardrobe is, and also as the emergency option when I'm feeling
really bloated. I also once wore it for a heavy Christmas dinner
for obvious reasons.
Anyway, I decided it was the time to revisit
this pattern, fix the fitting issues and also make a version
that would be more faithful to the original. I took out quite a
bit at the center back seam and front edges and partly redrafted
the skirt to follow the original pattern more closely. In the
cotton print jacket the side pleats begin slightly too high,
which was probably meant to allow room for the voluminous
quilted petticoat I wore with it. In this version I lengthened
the bodice a bit at the waist. The sleeve also needed some minor
adjustments.

My first pair of stays came rather high at the front, so most of
my early garments have a too high neckline for the period (I
have later fixed this in some). This applied to the cotton
jacket as well, so I curved the neckline a few centimeters
lower. As you can see, it's still not by any means very low. I
also re-shaped the front edges to leave room for a lacing gap
over a narrow stomacher. This time I also decided to keep the
slashes in the front skirt which I had previously replaced with
gores.
I had imagined I would only have to try to older jacket on,
throw in a few pins and then draft a brave new pattern, put
somehow I ended up making a mock up version as always no matter
what I do. Still, especially with adjusting the sleeve it was
very handy.
Sewing the jacket
The wool came in a narrow width, which made
the cutting interesting as it somehow brought me closer to what
a period dressmaker would have faced (although their fabrics
were often even narrower). The small jacket pieces fit rather
well without resorting to piecing (save the almost obligatory
join in the sleeve underarm).
I had beforehand thought to leave out the joining seam near the
front edge, but lo and behold, with this fabric width it made
total sense and allowed the bodice pieces to be cut side by
side. The other obvious fabric saving solution would of course
have been to piece the flared skirts.
I hate to admit that this seemingly rather economical cutting
plan was still missing the stomacher, which I had lazily planned
to cut separately when I could try on the jacket and measure the
required size more accurately. There was plenty of material
left, as it had been so cheap considering the quality that I had
hoarded up more than I needed for this project alone.

I had originally intended to line the whole jacket with thin
unbleached cotton I had, but then my OCD self got the better of
me and I began to be insanely troubled by the idea of the light
colored lining peeking from the skirt pleats. As the lower part
of the original jacket was lined with a different shade of linen
I decided to take this as a legit excuse to line the skirts with
black linen I also had in the stash. It was roughly the same
weight as the unbleached one but a lot stiffer, so it would also
give nice shape to the flared skirts and also hopefully keep the
waistline from stretching in use.
I had a bit more time with this
second version and a lot more experience, so I decided to give
it a bit nicer finish using more period sewing techniques. I had
bag lined the cotton jacket, which is far from ideal method for
assembling a fitted garment like this, though I had afterwards
finished the edges with running stitch which kept them from
bagging quite so much.
Now I wanted to include significantly more handsewing, largely
because I like it and in a small garment like this it doesn't
begin to feel tedious. I wasn't still quite ready to sew it all
by hand, though, as for a simple straight and durable line of
stitching a sewing machine is just a very, very good invention.
After joining the few piecing seams of the
wool (by machine) I basted the wool and lining pieces together.
I had already prepared the lining pieces by turning and pressing
the seam allowances under at the edges.
It would of course have been most convenient to finish the front
edges as well at this point with lacing holes and all, but I
wanted to see how the jacket would fit before finally shaping
them. So, for now I just basted the layers together some
distance from the edge and left the lining untrimmed as yet.

While turning the allowances on the
stiff black linen I sewed gathering threads to get it to curve
smoothly on the skirt edges. On the center back seam, which was
slightly in bias I sewed a line of small machine stitch to keep
it from stretching out of shape when pressing and sewing.

The soft wool was rather easy to fold under the lining edge,
though in the sharp tail ends I run a gathering thread too to
help in shaping it.
I began the actual sewing by joining
the wool and lining at the edges by hand, working from the
lining's side. Near the seams I left them separate so I could
close the seams. Nevertheless is was easy to finish the edges
for the most part while the pieces were still separate and flat.

At the sleeve I sewed the elbow dart on the wool, then folded
the lining to cover the seam and stitched the seam from the
outside with stab stitch, which also fixed the lining in place.
Then I sewed the layers together at the edge, save a few
centimeters near the seam.
Following the original garment I
finished the slashes in the front skirts with tape binding.
First I sewed around the marked slash line with small machine
stitch to keep the layers together, then cut it open and sewed
on a straight folded strip of the wool with stab stitch. I
resisted the urge to cut the strip in bias, which would have
been incorrect for the period, and was happily surprised how
neatly the soft, thin wool folded even at the top of the slash.
From some distance the bound finish which at first seemed to me
to be a bit random, if necessary, doesn't really stick out too
much.
According to the
description in the book the seams on the original jacket are
sewn by first running a row of backstitch from the outside
through folded seam allowances of both wool edges and one
lining edge, and then the remaining lining edge was turned to
cover the seam allowances and slip-stitched over the seam. The
result is of course neat from both sides, but I was rather
worried that when working with the combination of a very soft
wool and a rather soft linen I would end up with seams
stretched out of shape, especially in the curved side seams.
Thus I ended up faking it by first sewing a line of reliable
machine stitch through both wool layers and one linen edge,
pressing it and then adding a line of stab stitch which would
keep the seam allowances in place and give the period correct
look on the outside. Then I would sew the other edge of the
lining from the inside with slip stitch. It's not quite a
period correct technique then, but it's easier, very durable
and gives very nearly the right look.

I used the method described
above in the side seams and sleeve seams. Seaming all the layers
together was especially useful in the tight corner at the top of
the side pleats, as the top and the lining would never have
matched quite exactly if bag lined no matter how carefully I had
cut and sewn them.
I turned the seam allowances towards the back piece and after
sewing the lining of the back piece I finished the bit at the
hem that had been previously left open. I also reinforced the
corner, where the seam allowances had been slashed nearly to the
stitch line with some additional stitching through all layers.

If I understood the description correctly, this same technique
would have been used for the center back seam as well. As the
seam ends at the waistline while the lower part of back pieces
form separate tails this would, according to my logic, lead to
some fuzzling with the seam allowances at the top of the back
slit. This part would also be under considerable strain in wear,
so slashing the seam allowances to allow then to suddenly turn
on the other side did not seem like a very good idea to me,
though I guess there might have been some trick to avoid this.
Thus using a different construction method
for the back seam seemed like an attractive option. I quite fell
in love with the late 18th century technique of lining bodice
pieces separately and joining them with tiny stitch through the
folded layers when trying it for the jacket
with redingote-esque collar. While I don't have any idea
whatsoever if these two techniques were ever combined in the
same garment, it would be ideal for the smooth transition from
seam to slit, so I decided to go with it.
The shoulder pieces are put on like
in dresses: first the shoulder piece lining is sewn to the lined
fronts and backs (I did this by machine) and then the top
material is pinned or basted on top, the edges turned under to
cover the seams and then sewn on place by hand. While in dresses
the top of the sleeve is left between the lining and top
material on the shoulder, here I sewed on the sleeves separately
after finishing the shoulder.

When inserting the sleeves I once again broke from the book
description, I seem to be incorrigible in this "following
instructions" - thing. I just felt like sewing the sleeves on
from the outside through all the layers would be kinda hard to
get neat without practice, and besides, the armhole seam gets so
much strain I really wanted a reliable machine stitch there (my
staple excuse).
Another thing in the book description that didn't really make
sense to me was to finish the seam from the inside by turning
the seam allowance of the bodice lining under and covering the
seam with it. It just felt so much easier to me to do this with
the sleeve lining instead, like I had done in Jarno's coats,
leaving the lining separate from the sleeve seam for a few
centimeters at the top.

So, in the end I sewed the wool layer
of the sleeves on the armhole with machine stitch (a close
backstitch would probably have been even better). The sleeve
pattern had quite much ease on the front part of the top of my
shoulder, something that I always have to battle with, and the
soft thin wool alone settled in rather smoothly. Then I pinned
the sleeve lining to the seam, marking the line, and run a
gathering thread for the sleeve top. I trimmed away the extra
seam allowance and cut slashes on the underarm close to the seam
to allow the seam allowance to turn towards the sleeves. Then I
pinned the sleeve lining to follow the seam with the edges
turned under and sewed it on with slip stitch. While it may be
not quite the right way to sew in a sleeve, it works and looks
neat on both sides.

Then there were only the front edges
to finish. I tried the jacket on over stays and petticoats and
pinned the front edges to my stays. Like I had anticipated, the
soft wool lined with lightweight linen was a bit stretchy, so
the edges came closer together than I had planned. I trimmed
away a bit at the top part, folded the edges to turn under and
pressed them.
I sewed the wool and lining together by hand like I had on the
other edges. Then I added a heavy black cotton tape to further
support the edge where the lacing holes would go. Then I worked
the lacing holes 3cm apart.

I had calculated the measurements for
the stomacher in the fitting. While the lacing gap was quite
narrow I cut the stomacher a bit wider for ample fitting
allowance. I lined it with the black linen which was stiffer
than the unbleached one, so it would stay in shape better. The
wool is mounted on the linen and the edges sewn by hand as
elsewhere.
The
Petticoat
Of course I did not have a petticoat
that would go with the new jacket very well, so I had to make a
new one. At first I thought something in dark burgundy or maroon
which would have made a lovely color combination, but the
selection of affordable fabrics was limited and the time I had
to hunt for the fabric was limited. In the end I just grabbed a
wool blend in very dark, almost black charcoal grey with slight
white stripe. At first I thought it was too lightweight and
limp, but it turned out to look okay enough over a heavy cotton
under petticoat. The combination of a dark petticoat, white
linen and blue jacket is a bit severe, but in a way I sort of
like it as a contrast for all the pastel tones of my fancier
garb.
Unlike the lovingly handstitched jacket I put the petticoat
together very fast, all by machine down to the hemming. I find
petticoats generally quite boring so I try to get them done as
fast as I can.
Accessories
Luckily I had some of the necessary
accessories already: The large, very basic linen cap, woollen
mitts and clocked woollen socks knitted by a very talented
knitter friend, commissioned by my wonderful husband. I've
decided to use this as an excuse to include a period-naughty
picture of me flashing my legs.
Unfortunately all my kerchiefs were
more of less transparent and flimsy, so I still had to quickly
cut and hem a new one from the same linen I had used for the
cap. The last task was to make the lucet cord for the lacing.
Final thoughts
I rather like the outfit, and it's really comfortable to wear.
The wool jacket, though thin, is surprisingly warm, and of
course the wool was a dream to work with. The overall look is
plain but very neat and charming in its quiet way - simple, but
well cut and made with quality materials. Worn with a more
fashionable cap and maybe a decorative apron it would look
different again.
We took the pictures a week before the event was to be, and in
the end the event had to be cancelled due to new restrictions
like bloody everything this year. I had been looking forward to
it, but at least I got this outfit made, and hopefully will get
another occasion to wear it before too long.