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| Gina Mulligan, left, and me. Learn how I struggled to create this white Regency gown. |
I joined the Jane Austen Society of North America because of a secret
writing project (literary agents, it needs representation...call me).
I wanted to be ensconced by other Janeites. And when I learned of the
Jane Austen tea that took place in January, I was so in. I asked a
good friend to go with me, and we both embarked on vintage-a-fying
ourselves.
I must give credit
to this website, with its “Easy-Peasy
Regency: From Bed to Ball Gown in 30 Minutes or less” project.
It is ultimately what I ended up doing, with a few (okay, many)
left turns along the way.
I give a shout-out
to Diana Birchall, Devoney Looser, Bianca Hernandez of Drunk Austen,
Gillian Bagwell, Chloe Filson—all people I consulted at the outset
of this costuming dilemma (Gillian even offered to mail me hers, what
a generous soul!). Bianca told of the Simplicity pattern (S8941), so
I hied myself to JoAnn’s fabric where I found it in a drawer. It
felt like the sewing equivalent of opening a card catalogue in the
library. They actually had about six envelopes of this Regency dress
in different sizes, so when there is a rush on Regency, they’ve got
it covered! I took the pattern envelope out, noticed the intimidating
price (especially since I had been swayed by watching the video above
where a single bedsheet becomes a dress), contemplated the failure I
might confront in attempting a “real” dress, and yet still
committed to finding the items on the envelope.
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| Part of the envelope cover. I was texting my sisters for help while in the sewing store, and sent this when they asked what I was making. |
Those required items were: 1/8”
wide twill tape, hook and eye, 60” fabric such as linen or taffeta,
45-60” muslin for the lining, and satin for the sash. My first
mistake: I went after the notions first. I found the hook and eye
immediately, but stalled with the twill tape. The store had 1/4”
tape but not 1/8”. Since I didn’t understand what it was for, I
didn’t know if it was okay to literally double the width asked for.
I consulted with someone at the cutting counter, who sent me to find
linen tape (on a spool, so I didn’t have to buy more than what I
actually needed), which I had a really hard time finding. I noted the
sash ribbons and then went inexplicably to hunt down the muslin for
the lining.
Oh boy.
The muslin available
was only 44 inches, not the specified 45—and instead of the
specified alternative 60” it jumped up to 90 inches. I was frankly paralyzed
with fear and loathing. I consulted another customer who said, “Yeah,
they always do that. You never get the right amount of inches. I
don’t know why they don’t make it consistent.” I did start to
wonder, with an excellent application of math, if the 90” muslin
could be halved to make the required 45”... but then, was it a thing
about being horizontal rather than vertical? I mean, a Regency gown
has to be one length of fabric from shoulder to feet, and I’m
fairly tall. So then more math was applied to figure out that since I
am 66 inches tall, plus add for the fabric to go out and around some
butt and bust, I’d be in trouble with merely 45 inches to cover up
all my parts. Right?? I imagine legitimate seamstresses will read
this blog post and snicker at my appalling ignorance.
By now, a striking
amount of time had passed as I combed through the muslin... what do
you call them? bolts?...feverishly certain I could find the magical
45 or 60 inch selections. So I decided to turn my attention to the
actual fabric itself, which I really should have started with.
I couldn’t find
anything taffeta. Whatever that is. It sounds like something for the
prom. I enlisted help from an employee who I pathetically showed the
envelope to, expecting her to say something like, “Oh you poor
dear, this is certainly above your head, and please let me walk you
through the store collecting everything you need, and ultimately I
can just sew this for you.” She showed me the fabrics of the
correct size, but there were very, very few apparel fabrics that were
60 inches as the envelope wished. In fact, none of the fabrics looked
like anything Jane Austen or her cohorts would wear. I was in
despair. Finally, I decided one of the florals could possibly work
even if it wasn’t perfectly 1813 vintage looking...but as I pulled
it out, I realized there was not much to it. And sure enough, at the
cutting counter, they told me there was not enough to get the
required yardage. Ohhhhhhh why did I spent so much time there?
I’m not going to
go so far as to say I was “freaked out,” but there was something
very interestingly psychological going on with me there. Maybe in a
past life I was a seamstress who perished mid-garment?
I walked around the
store, carefully putting everything back.
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| For a while, I was going to use these shower curtains because of the lovely embossing and the prebuilt hem. But they weren't tall enough. Discarded the idea and turned to the bedsheet. |
I went to Marshall's and bought a lovely shower curtain with light embossing, and even a nice hem for the bottom. I was proud to be following the Von Trapp and O’Hara heritage of
wearing window treatments.
At home, I
reacquainted myself with the blogpost above and set about pinning the curtain as directed. However, it was quickly determined to be too short for me. I had been (faultily) reasoning that when you stand in a shower the curtain is taller than you, but the blogpost requires the fabric to be folded in half vertically. In retrospect, I ought to have just sketched out a rough dress (the width of the fabric was certainly enough) and gone for it, but I was in a torpor of realizing I had zero sewing skills and was letting down my forebears.
So I set the curtains aside and decided to actually use a bed sheet. It seemed more my speed and we even had a white flat
sheet! I did worry a bit that the sheet might show evidence of what
you might call marital exertions, but a glance through assured me it
was going to pass muster. In the garage, I quickly located the
sewing machine box and brought it inside. I
pulled out the sewing machine out of the box and...gaped.
It had been put back
by the last user in a distressing state. Someone had removed the
bobbin cellar and the foot on the needle. It felt like I went in for
a hug and realized the person had been partially amputated since I
last saw them. I had to go watch youtube videos to understand how to
put it all back together again, how to install the bobbin and pull up
the bobbin thread, etc. I use my machine about once a decade, and
each time it requires a huge reeducation. I pledged that I would
record a youtube video for myself so that in 2030 when I again try to
sew something, I will have already answered my own questions.
I remembered that on
Project Runway, everyone irons their material before sewing, so I did
that. I like the little exhale the iron makes now and then. However,
I don’t believe it’s possible to master ironing. And who would
want to, anyway? It’s a tool of the patriarchy. I got depressed
thinking that if I could get out all the wrinkles, the car ride to
the Jane Austen tea would just reinstate them. Ironing tricks you. Do
you agree that that is not fair?
I followed the
blogpost but had some questions. I cut down the sheet because it
wasn’t a twin, but even still wondered how much excess fabric was
good to keep around. I liked the idea of a bit of a train trailing
the ground but in terms of width/girth, I wanted to look slender or
whatever passes for slender at my weight. I followed the instructions
and created the double column that, with ribbon under the bust,
actually looked legit! However, it really was too thick, so I cut a
wide swath off and went back to the sewing machine.
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| The mysterious "overlap"...why was it necessary? Read on! |
Note: I was very,
very confused by the use of safety pins to “overlap” the two
edges of the column. I even reached out to the blog poster via email
and Twitter to understand. I was thinking the safety pins were only
temporary, right, until you could get to a sewing machine? No. The
absolute brilliance of her design is that the overlap means no body
parts are inadvertently seen/flashed as you wear the safety-pinned garment to whatever Jane Austen event you are attending.
Afterward, you unpin it and keep
using it as a bedsheet. I love the complete reduce/recycle/reuse
nature of this project. No bedding was harmed during the making of
her
gown! In my case, I had had to cut down the oversized sheet, so it
was never getting back to the bed anyway.
As
a side note to my above note,
I found that these “safety” pins were misnomered because I did
get Aurora’d by them.
At one point in my traumatizing evening, I went and took a photo of the sunset off the balcony. It seemed like a metaphor.
Q. Did I also take photos of myself in the various iterations of this project?
A. Yes.
Q. Will I be posting them?
A. No.
Q. But why?
A. NSW.
["not suitable for work"]
Q. Is that all?
A. Also NSE.
["not suitable for eyes"]
My
previous musings for the costume had been:
- Amazon's Jane Austen costume, but I worried everyone would wear it (or recognize it as the Amazon costume).
- Party City has one, but not in stock at my local store.
- And finally, the thrift store, where I surprisingly found a few possible options. A decade or so back, there was a small resurgence of popularity of the Empire waist, and so I bought two dresses that while only calf length, definitely had the proper waistline. I had thought perhaps I could layer something as long as the bodice worked, but in fact what I ended up using was one of the dress’s little demi-jacket which approximated a Spencer. [Janeites, I was googling “Steventon” thinking that was the name for the little coat!]
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| "Simply" Vera Wang thrift shop find in a nice ombre. But calf-length, so I'd still have to figure out something and also need a Spencer to cover the "shocking" shoulders |
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| The "Spencer" attracted me although in a light metallic sheen
Jane Austen wouldn't have had access to. But hey! Close enough.
The sheaf dress is also pretty cute and might be wearable for real.
|
So
with my bedsheet covered by a pale lilac Spencer, I thought I could
bear to go to the event although I did worry that someone would know
the dress was a sheet. “Oh, where’d you get that? The
store called Percale?”
Satisfied, exhausted, I
opened up my email to learn that “most
people don’t dress up for the event.”
Gahhhhhhhhhhhhhh!
But
I did not fash (yes, I’ve been rereading and watching Outlander,
why do you ask?), or at least did not fash much.
As good friend Gina and I learned at the tea, a
fair number of attendees did
dress up,
so we were not foolish.
It was amazing to see some of the gowns, and even a few men in
wonderful Regency attire too! We heard several wonderful lectures,
partook of an amazing
high tea by a company called Novel Tea, and enjoyed chatting with
table mates. I even won a Cinemark giftcard in one of the raffles.
Sigh. A beautiful day. I
highly recommend this event.
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| Lovely couple at our table. Check out her gorgeous hair AND cheekbones. She made her own gown. She knows how to sew. |
Timing
recap:
Monday:
2 hours at JoAnn’s flipping out
Tuesday: unproductive panic. Purchase bonnet online so at least I’d have something that looked legit.
Wednesday: 1.5 hours going to thrift stores and finding options, going to Marshall's to get shower curtains. Returned to JoAnn's in a furtive skulk to buy the ribbon I'd put back the day before in shame.
Thursday: 3.5 hours (yes this is embarrassing), trying to make inroads of communication with the sewing machine.
Tuesday: unproductive panic. Purchase bonnet online so at least I’d have something that looked legit.
Wednesday: 1.5 hours going to thrift stores and finding options, going to Marshall's to get shower curtains. Returned to JoAnn's in a furtive skulk to buy the ribbon I'd put back the day before in shame.
Thursday: 3.5 hours (yes this is embarrassing), trying to make inroads of communication with the sewing machine.
Friday:
2 hours sew for real, including cutting down the sheet and redoing
the seam. I’m slow.
Saturday:
the event!
Total:
9 hours to sew a dang sheet.
Cost
breakdown:
Sheet:
free from closet.
Curtains: Might use them to make a Regency dress for elementary school child’s “wax museum” (one of the joys of this project was that she wants to be Jane Austen—her idea!), $20
Curtains: Might use them to make a Regency dress for elementary school child’s “wax museum” (one of the joys of this project was that she wants to be Jane Austen—her idea!), $20
Thrift
store dress with “Spencer”: $7
Second thrift store dress I bought thinking it could be used because of its
neckline (it’s Vera Wang! okay, "Simply Vera," the Kohl's lower-priced line): $7
Notions
(thread, elastic, pretty pink
ribbon): $11
Bonnet:
$10
Cute hairpins: Borrowed to put up hair. Never got photo of hair under bonnet, alas.
Total:
$55. Well, that’s discouraging. I do think I’ll wear both the short dresses in summer (sans Spencer), and hopefully the bonnet gets a second use and
the curtains get a first use, so I have to factor that in. Plus, I’ll
definitely wear this “ensemble” as Carol Burnett calls it again
sometime, for
next year’s tea and hopefully something before that, too. The
national JASNA convention is in Cleveland in October.
And
thus I close this chapter on my wild adventure with fabric!
Here are some more photos of the event, the Jane Austen tea on her birthday, put on by the Sacramento branch of the Jane Austen Society of North America.
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| A model demonstrates a lovely Regency gown with train |
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| Check out the gorgeous table settings! If anyone recognizes the water glass, let me know. Gina was quite taken, and I'd love to get her a set. Each table was decorated differently and beautifully. |
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| The beautiful room where the tea took place. What do you call those walls? In the center, the woman in red was the presenter who made these gowns; hers is based on the one featured on the event program in the photo above. |
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