Empire Ensemble
May 31st, 2011
Just in time for our Neoclassical Memorial Day Picnic, I finished my Empire ensemble. It consisted of:
- a stomacher front dress (built onto what was originally intended to be a separate bodiced petticoat);
- a tiny lace shawl, strategically designed to preserve my modesty;
- and a gypsy bonnet, complete with veil (a handy safeguard in case my shawl slipped; at least I wouldn’t be recognized).
As you may be able to tell from the back, with it’s tiny, raised bodice panel and slight train, it’s a very early Regency style (copied mostly from Janet Arnold). But because I based the scandalous neckline on a French portrait, I am calling the dress Empire instead. As you may recall from earlier posts, I initially thought the dress in the painting must close in the back, so I proceeded accordingly. As I worked through the fittings, and just couldn’t make the back behave no matter how I tried, I began to look for examples of back-closing dresses from this period. And I failed to find a single one that matched.
Then, I looked again at the painting, and again. And what do you think? It turns out the painting was a stomacher front as well! So I re-cut the back, removed most of the front, and cut a new front bodice piece to add to the apron part of the skirt. Because of the last minute change in plans, there are some definite irregularities in the dress construction. Most are invisible from the outside, but you can tell when you open it up. Ah well. I’ll do better next time.
Somehow this photograph avoids being terribly indecent, perhaps because it was taken indoors. But I kept my shawl draped around my neck and hanging down the front while I was out and about. Can you see the similarity to my inspiration painting? While it’s not an exact copy, I believe I captured the essentials. It was particularly exciting to see how Janet Arnold’s pattern created the exact lines seen in the portrait. I live for those little correspondences, when two disparate sources suddenly combine and magnify!
Alas, I fear I am now hooked on Regency. New dresses are already being planned…
Memorial Day
May 30th, 2011
The first Decoration Day (the original name of our modern Memorial Day holiday) was held in May of 1868, to commemorate those who gave their lives in service during the Civil War. It was a day for laying flowers and wreaths on the graves and monuments that represent our fallen warriors.
Despite an existing 19th century-precedent, the New York Nineteenth Century Society — of which I am a co-founder — decided to celebrate Memorial Day with a salute to Lord Byron. I can’t explain it, I know it makes no sense, but there it is. So we organized an excursion via railroad to Wave Hill, a botanic garden in Riverdale on the Hudson River. We called our gathering “Hours of Idleness: A Neoclassical Picnic.”
The company was motley and merry, some traveling by train, others by car, none by ferry boat. After a jolly picnic in the appointed area, we strolled about in smaller groups, equipped with some of the shorter poems from Byron’s Hours of Idleness, though I’m not sure how many bothered to read them — the views of the Hudson being all engrossing. When the heat became too much for us, we gathered on a shady lawn to loll about a while. That’s where I painted this atrocious watercolor.
I have lately begun to revolt against the constant use of digital cameras. It’s all too easy to let the documentation of a good time take over the very thing it is trying to record. So I brought my watercolors along instead. Of course, I am still grateful to the photographers — particularly since I would have other way of showing you my completed Empire dress. But that is for another post.
Until then, Happy Memorial Day, and deepest thanks to all who have served our country so bravely over the past century and a half.
Lines, Written Beneath an Elm…
By Lord ByronSpot of my youth! whose hoary branches sigh,
Swept by the breeze that fans thy cloudless sky,
Where now alone, I muse, who oft have trod,
With those I loved, thy soft and verdant sod;
With those, who scatter ‘d far, perchance, deplore
Like me, the happy scenes they knew before;
Oh ! as I trace again thy winding hill,
Mine eyes admire, my heart adores thee still,
Thou droopi ng Elm ! beneath whose boughs I lay,
And frequent mused the twilight hours away;
Where as they once were wont, my limbs recline,
But, ah! without the thoughts which then were mine:
How do thy branches, moaning to the blast,
Invite the bosom to recall the past,
And seem to whisper as they gently swell,
“Take, while thou canst, a lingering, last farewell!”When fate shall chill, at length, this fever’d breast
And calm its cares and passions into rest,
Oft have I thought ‘twould soothe my dying hour,
If aught may soothe, when Life resigns her power;
To know some Humbler grave, some narrow cell,
Would hide my bosom where it loved to dwell,
With this fond dream methinks ‘twere sweet to die,
And here it linger’d, here my heart might lie,
Here.might I sleep where all my hopes arose,
Scene of my youth, and couch of my repose:
For ever stretch’d beneath this mantling shade,
Prest by the turf where once my childhood play’d;
Wrapt by the soil that veils the spot I loved,
Mix’d with the earth o’er which my footsteps moved;
Blest by the tongues that charm’d my youthful ear,
Mourn’d by the few my soul acknowledged here,
Deplored by those, in early days allied,
And unremember’d by the world beside.
Look Out Edward VII
May 29th, 2011
Just as I was beginning to weary of Prinny’s antics, my latest impulse purchase from Amazon.com arrived.
I try to be selective in my purchase of historic costuming books, lest I overwhelm my limited budget, not to mention shelf space. There are so many intriguing titles available! I was sorely tempted to purchase a compendium of Regency era fashion plates, but the price tag was a tad high, and despite my recent adventures (some of which you know, some of which I shall tell when I am able), I am really not that interested in the period (at least that’s what I keep telling myself).
I’m very pleased with The Edwardian Modiste. It’s a clearly printed, comprehensive volume of virtually un-edited fashion patterns from 1905-1909. At first glance, I’d heartily recommend it to any experienced sewer/pattern maker interested in the period.
It’s been more than a decade since I sewed anything Edwardian — since I was a volunteer tour guide at Rockwood Mansion in my early teens. Yet it remains one of my favorite periods in historic fashion. Perhaps because I have such warm memories of my time at Rockwood. Or maybe I’m a masochist — the Grecian Bend is truly the most uncomfortable corset ever devised.
I have sworn off sewing for a few weeks, and projects are already stacked up awaiting my return. So it will likely be some time before I can begin on anything from my new book. But perhaps by the time I do, my dear friend and talented seamstress over at Costume & Construction will be finished with her own Edwardian confection.
Bored in Barchester
May 28th, 2011
It grieves me to say it, but I don’t think I like Anthony Trollope very well. I began The Warden a few days ago, and have so far yawned my way through about two-thirds of the novel. I find the characters insipid and inconsequential, and while his arguments are interesting (I am very fond of church disputes, though prefer the doctrinal over the financial), the satire is ruined by too much cleverness without enough content.
I suppose Trollope’s defenders might argue that his finest barbs are soaring over my head. Or the less dogmatic among them might suggest I chose a poor specimen of his work with which to begin. But I can’t help feeling him to be a sad mix, combining the worst of the maudlin mid-19th century with a crude beginning of the delicate wit that characterizes so many British works of the later 19th and early 20th centuries.
Being nearly incapable of leaving a story half-finished, I suppose I will finish The Warden. Who knows, I may try another of his novels after that, just to be sure of my own feelings. I am generally quite fond of curmudgeons — even those who wear checked trousers.
Closure
May 24th, 2011
Turns out I didn’t need all 5 buttons…though I am reserving the right to add another one in the middle if the back gapes!
The dress pattern I am working from in Janet Arnold’s book is a stomacher front, so it closes in the front. But there’s another dress on the same page that seems to be more similar in some aspects of construction to my inspiration painting. The second dress is back closing, like the painting dress, and this is how its buttons are arranged.
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