Robe
á la Anglaise, 2009
Of course my first historical costume was for a long time to be
a Robe a la Francaise. Then I decided to practice with a shorter
(and thus less fabric-consuming) Pet-en-l'air with a petticoat
of different material. Some day I shall probably make one or the
other or both, but when I found this printed cotton I knew
almost at once that it was destined to become an Anglaise (even
though it is probably designed for curtains). I happened to have
some old blue fabric that matched the pattern color so well that
I wanted to use it for the petticoat, even though a lighter
colored petticoat might have been more authentic, not to mention
the blatantly plastic material. On the other hand, inexpensive,
not very light colored and machine-washable petticoats are quite
sensible.
Before beginning the dress there was was the project of making
all the necessary underwear. More about them can be found here (the stays) and
here (the rest). The
blue petticoat is constructed in the same simple fashion as the
cotton under petticoat.

Drafting
the pattern
The pattern for the dress is for the largest part based on a
polonaise in Janet Arnold's Pattern's of Fashion I, and of
course my stays. The sleeve pattern fit almost without
alteration.
The "en fourreau" back is pleated wider than in the book,
following an earlier style, purely out of my whim because I
thought it looked nicer. I also considered cutting the bodice
separate all around in a later style, but there was something so
fascinating in the "en fourreau"-cut that I just had to try it
out. The term means, by the way, that the front of the bodice is
cut separate, but the back from neck to skirt hem is cut in one
piece. The material is pleated at the back to follow the figure
closely, but nothing is cut off, and the pleats are stitched
down to the lining.

After some planning I set to work with the pattern, equipped
with my stays, dummy, bum-roll, petticoats, pattern books, mock
up-fabric, pencil and paper. Eventually the pattern for the
bodice lining emerged. In it I had marked the places for the
back pleats (their placing I had tested on the dummy), lacking
the courage to just pin the top fabric on it and somehow get all
the pleats symmetrical... or not.

Sewing the dress
As the material was quite
thin, I decided to back it with bed sheet cotton at the
skirt/back piece. I joined the front skirt pieces with the
center back one, then I sewed the pleats in the places I had
marked from the wrong side - not quite the right way to do it,
but a safe one. I almost went mad trying to figure out how to
get the pattern look symmetrical when pleated, but I ended up
believing that would be impossible - which might even be the
case, as it's a draping material after all, not a clothing
one. Anyway, there is nothing more period than careful fabric
economy, and according to that I was quite right to cut so
that I could use the whole width of the fabric and not be too
choosy - never mind the pattern. The result is that the right
side of the center back has a lot of flowers and the left
almost none. With smaller pieces I made some more effort to
choose where I cut, as the red flowers are quite dominating,
but then the pleated pieces are very unevenly patterned again.

Anyway, back to the back pleats. In
the picture you may be able to make out pencil lines marking the
back piece edges. The pleats are ironed (and the large center
one pinned down). The outermost pleat is not sewn all the way
down, however, since the end of the side seam will be hidden
under it - once again, originally all this was worked from the
outside. Now I attached the back lining piece over the pleating,
leaving the bottom of it open. In the photo you can see a boning
channel, which I ended up not even using as the dress seemed fit
well without the bones. Then I cut the extra material off,
leaving a narrow seam allowance between the skirt part and the
back bodice. It was rather scary, and I was worried about how it
would work, but as the bodice edge goes up towards the side seam
on a much sharper angle than the pleated skirt part, you can cut
between them almost to where they join and still have enough
seam allowance left.

I put together the front piece lining and top fabric, and sewed
a row of hooks and eyes at the front opening. Then I sewed the
side seams and pleated the skirt to the bodice. In the picture
the other side is finished, and to my relief it turned out very
well. I tidied up the seam with bias tape, turning the lower
edge of the bodice front with it too. Then I finished the back
pleating by handstitching, in this case mostly decorative,
disguising my modern shortcut in making them.

After careful fitting I attached the
shoulder piece, and then finished the neckline with bias tape
(not necessarily authentic but neat). As I didn't want the
neckline to be too revealing (and being afraid the edge of stays
might accidentally show), I left it somewhat higher than the
stays. That of course meant that the neckline would not quite
fit, the front piece being straight without any hint of a breast
dart. Obviously a ribbon tunnel was the period solution, but as
I was going to decorate the neckline with the pleated strips
that might not work very well, so I gathered the bias-tape
finished edge with tiny stitches on a strong thread - it helds
at least so far. Perhaps the neckline ended up being even a bit
too high, but at least I don't have to fear the stays (or
anything else inappropriate) showing now.

Now it was the time to tackle the sleeve, which I had so far
pushed entirely for the time I would have managed to put the
bodice together. Between finishing the bodice and beginning the
sleeve several months elapsed, as I was stricken with that
mixture of getting fed up and/or lacking courage which often
hits at some part of a large project. And as it often is, when
you at last get back to the project, it's not that difficult
after all. Well, I had had my doubts about the sleeve, since
modern sleeves are sometimes tricky enough, so I thought that an
18th century one, which is slightly different, might be even
harder. I began by enlarging the Arnold's book sleeve pattern,
altering it very slightly to match my measurements and the
bodice armhole, and to my happy surprise the mock up of this
pattern worked almost perfectly at once, the only thing to do
was to remove the few centimeters extra length I had added just
in case.

Thus I proceeded to cut the sleeve. I lined it with cotton
batiste, the same I had used in the chemise. To diminish bulk I
made the elbow darts separate on the top fabric and lining
before joining them. After the facing at the elbow the two
layers are worked as one.
The patterned dress would have been pretty and appropriate even
without trimmings, but still I wanted the characteristic pleated
ruffles on the same material on the neckline and sleeves. The
fabric, which I had thought thin before, felt stiff and heavy
now, as I could not just cut scalloped edges on the strips but
had to turn the edges to prevent fraying.

First I pinned the pleats evenly and attached them with one
stitch between every pleat, then on the second round I stitched
them down to form tiny box pleats. At first I thought the
pleating might look too stiff (but was not going to rip it off
after all the work nevertheless), but I ended up liking it, as
it brings a nice geometrical touch to the fluffy floral dress
and lacy accessories. It also makes the neckline look better
fitting and balances it's proportions (as it could well be more
revealing).

As the picture shows, I made most of the sleeve trimming while
the sleeve was still open, as it went much easier at this point.
Then I just fervently hoped that nothing drastic and mysterious
had happened since the mock up fitting (these things sometimes
do happen, as we know), but luckily the sleeve settled in it's
place very nicely. The only problem was that the pleated strip
made the elbow a bit tight and stiff, and on the first wearing I
had problems in tucking the chemise sleeves under the dress
sleeves. Luckily it gave away a little when worn, and now it's
actually just tight enough to help preventing the chemise
sleeves (which are quite long) from slipping down.
I am aware that many dresses at this period were not too
fastidiously neat on the inside, but my occasionally emerging
perfectionism got the better of me (as I was not in any hurry
with finishing the dress yet either) and I thought that massive
use of bias tape can't be such a sin when there is also
half-polyester lining and machine seams involved. I had cut some
of the bias tape myself, after all!

The final, massive lack of motivation often interrupts a project
at pretty much the same phase. There is usually some
comparatively small and easy thing left to finish, very often
the hem. The hem was the case this time too. In my defense I
must state that marking this particular hem demanded putting on
several different undergarments, sweeping the floor and
employing Jarno for help. At last I was impelled to get done
with this great chore at the Wednesday of the week of the 18th
century weekend at Suomenlinna. Despite my own faltering courage
and overwhelming laziness a good luck had favored this project
all along, and it didn't desert me now, and it turned out that
the few guiding pins I had put on the hem before were actually
pretty accurate. The long postponed event of cropping the hem
and turning the edges was done amazingly fast in the end, as I
managed to make most of the dress fabric and lining facing each
other with a machine. Both cotton, when ironed they cling to
each other perfectly.

One of the ponderings I had entertained myself with was whether
to wear the dress as a l'Anglaise or as a la Polonaise, as both
have their charm. As the debut of the dress was to be an outdoor
event, the Polonaise seemed a sensible option, as raising the
hem even slightly above the ground would help in keeping it
clean and intact. So for the last thing I added tapes on the
side seams and loops on the waist. The result of this very
simple device looked very pretty. Perhaps some day I may wear
the skirt plain, too.
From the pictures taken at Suomenlinna I feel the need to
mention that on both Saturday and Sunday I had dressed at the
place in a hurry, and it shows a bit... The chemise in peeking
out way too much both on the neckline and the elbows. Oh well. I
also forgot to apply any sun protection, and thus the snow white
bosom I had carefully preserved until now was soon rather
blushed. I also got a funny tan line on my neck on the place of
the ribbon! But then again, forgetting sun protection is a good
old trick for getting a great weather, and in the end I'm rather
happy that the heavy rain the forecast promised fell on the
night.
Final
Thoughts
As I get quite carried away now I shall confess that this
project has been very important for me personally. I have always
(well, mostly) been rather sceptical about this popular heresy
about one being able to accomplish anything if one only believes
in his dreams and tries hard enough etc (just watch American
Idol to find fine examples of this philosophy). Anyway, a dress
something like this has been a dream of mine for a long time,
and though I'm sure it's nowhere near a very good historical
reproduction, I also know it could have turned out much worse. A
few years ago I might not yet have been ready to make this
dress, and I hope also to get much better and more experienced
in the future. So, the aforementioned philosophy may to some
extent be applied to making clothes: It's mostly about practice
and experience, and when things go wrong you can always just
silently bury the project gone awry with only the loss of
material cost and some work.

Some of the pictures are taken a ear or two
later, when I already had a hat to wear with it.