One thing about vintage patterns - lots of them are designed to be made from nonstretch, woven fabric. With modern patterns, I'm so often lamenting having not chosen one of the more drapeable stretchy options from the "fabric suggestions."
A good example is the waisted/collared blouse patterns that are often included with jumper or suit patterns, or, bought separately, offer face-framing collar options. These blouses are shaped with limited ease at the sides, and in the front the fullness is controlled for tucking into skirts, usually by dart-tucks. This seems a flattering way to wear a looser silhouette and also avoid blobby tucking or butt puffs from uncontrolled gathering. The whole look is softer and more forgiving than princess seams, and nothing like 'man tailoring.'
Here's one of the patterns I have, which I bought for the skirt w/pockets. It came with an interesting version of this tuckable blouse. The collar looks like it would be very flattering in the right fabric, with a jacket or cardigan - or, I suppose, a jumper though I never consider wearing jumpers. On me, the jumper look says less "naughty schoolgirl," more "nun in civvies."
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| Here is one of the blouse patterns, Vintage Simplicity 4379 |
The back of the pattern shows the waisted blouse, with dart tucks. The collar is rolled with a fisheye dart.
I thought about making these blouses many times, but lacked the final inspiration. Then I took part in the Pattern Review Sewing Bee. It not only reintroduced the fun of classic women's clothes through an aline skirt challenge in the first round, it also reminded me how much I LOVE cotton wovens. Though I never refashion old mens clothing on my own initiative, directed to do so in the second roung, I fell in love with the oxford cloth I used to make a jacket. So forgiving, so tailor- and- press-able. So rewarding.
It's been forever since I made something from a useful comfortable fabric like that. I made things from featherweight cotton with fibers like dandelion silk, slippery charmeuse, stretchy curling knits, blends that won't hold a crease. Why? Why not cotton shirting? I have lots of fabrics in my stash that are always overlooked, because modern patterns want more drape. Then I saw this:
This is a Cavalli blue and white silk blouse. It is waisted with drawstring and drapey, but the inspiration is its bold floral, collar, waist, and womanish silhouette. I do not do frills or ruffles. They are lovely but any time I put them on I take them off again before leaving the house. I had, in my stash, an indigo and white border print poplin shirting. The concept seemed to fit the vintage pattern, which has collar interest and a waist without frou frou or boho.
So that was the plan: An indigo and white blouse with a waist. Because from the 40's, it would be constructed and ladylike, rather than droopy/drapey. This was a good way to see exactly how these waisted constructed blouse patterns turn out, and how they fit.
The pattern drawing is very plain:
Here is the line drawing of the shortsleeved version. It has buttons only to the waist.
This is the only mention of shoulder pads, by the way, and they're unnecessary.
Vintage pattern instructions are very clear, but tend to presume I know at least something of what I'm doing. I spent some time looking for pattern pieces for the smaller bias facings before I noticed this part of the instructions, telling me to find a ruler and cut out the facings myself:
Well, sure, I agree I don't actually need pattern pieces for this, just measure and cut your own.... same with the back darts, which are just marked with a line, and instructions to start them at 1/8 inch and taper to nothing. I feel so respected. It almost makes up for needing to make something sized three sized bigger than usual. Older pattern sizing is smaller. This was a fourteen that I had to size up a bit, but the measurements are a nowadays 10ish (32 Bust.)
Once underway, it's amazing how well this design works. The waist is shaped with dart tucks which are very flattering and adjustable. Unlike the pattern photo, the waist is not smaller than your head but very well proportioned and easily adjusted by deeper or shallower dart tucks. A fisheye dart that rolls the collar works perfectly.
The edge of the facing has to sit under the body of the blouse at the front opening, then over it when it becomes the overcollar. It does this easily. So far so good. Sleeves next.
Everything was sized very precisely, even the facings I measured myself, and fits together well. The gathered bottom of the sleeve is just the right fullness. Here is the work in progress. Looks exactly like the pattern envelope, except for the print:
The dart/tucks make the fullness end at your waist, so I cut the fabric for the border to begin there. I initially made a mistake cutting the cuffs, because they fold in half and my first cut had the lighter part of the border showing, which did not have the effect I was going for. I didn't discover this until I had gathered and put the cuff on one sleeve, so I pulled it apart and cut new cuffs, reversing the border.
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| The wrong cuffs, cut with the dark part of the border folding to the inside. |
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The blouse will be hemmed at the end of the dark border. Here it is pinned up at the back.
When I attached the first sleeve and stood back to look at the blouse, I knew I liked it. Just then, my husband came in and I had one of those conversations with "laymen" that keep you humble.
Me: Look at what I'm making. I really like it. I made it from a 1940s pattern.
Him: Very nice. Whatever happened to the
jacket you entered in that contest?
Me: The one from old shirts? I was eliminated.
Him: Really? I thought it was pretty good, with the lining and all.
Me: Other peoples' were better. I think this blouse is turning out really well.
Him: Really? I thought you said it was dated.
Me: It's not "dated," it's "vintage."
This kind of conversation always makes me think of lyrics from a Noel Coward song from a revue I loved, that I saw twice and have on LP "Oh Coward," not available on CD. The song is making fun of upper class self-indulgent youth of the thirties. It's sung by a trio commenting on one another's statements:
"Bright young people.
Don't think our lives are not full.
I make little mats from Victorian hats.
And I work in tinfoil and wool.
The critics are often excessively rude.
To one of my portraits they often allude.
It's me, worked in beads, upside down, in the nude.
What can be duller than that?"Noel Coward (c) 1930s
My husband is used to attempting to converse with me because I'm a painter, gardener, sewer, baker, indulger in all kinds of things others do not always find particularly exciting.
(You can see paintings here.)
Back to construction, I realized that the back skirt of the blouse is just a smidgeon not quite wide enough, although the front fits perfectly. I thought I should probably add a godet or underlayered pleat somewhere, but where? I don't want to look like I have a tail and fit of the sides, from the front, looks perfect. So I turned to Vogue Sewing Book of Fitting, etc, paging past the too small busts, too high busts, too bony shoulders, to the horizontal wrinkles at low back, on which subject the book offered, gratuitously:
"Excess flesh due to lack of exercise or being overweight creates wrinkles between the waistline and hip."
Thanks a lot, Vogue Fitting. Was that really necessary?
The proposed alterations in the book were at side or center back, which I had already considered, so it didn't even offer useful advice.
To be continued.
