Knitting and sewing

I'm strenuously avoiding starting a collection of Vogue Knitting magazines, but I couldn't resist this one.

Autumn/Winter 1968

The attraction wasn't the jumper on the front (although it is quite tempting), but rather the reference to dressmaking patterns. Condé Nast had sold Vogue patterns, along with the pattern book publication, to Butterick in 1961, but had kept Vogue Knitting, so this suggested some sort of collaboration between the two companies.

The eight pages are towards the back of the magazine, partway through the instructions for the various knitwear designs.

The sweater and stockings on the left are from a pattern in the magazine

As are the cardigan and beret shown top right

No knitted items in this spread

The final page is pattern yardages and sizes

There's no fanfare or editorial for this new feature, apart from the reference on the cover. However, there is an advertisement for the autumn issue of the pattern book right at the front of the magazine.

Autumn 1968

This issue of Vogue Pattern Book, in turn, carries an advertisement for Vogue Knitting.

The two advertisements

I had assumed that the photographs in Vogue Knitting would have come from Butterick, but I was wrong. All but two of the patterns featured here also appear in the pattern book, but with entirely different artwork.

Vogue 7384. Vogue Knitting on the left, the pattern book on the right

Several of the patterns featured are designer ones.

Vogue 1999, by Jacques Heim

Vogue 1998, by Nina Ricci

Vogue 1970, by Valentino of Rome

This was the era when Vogue Pattern Book seems to have been obsessed with bulky fabrics. The versions of the clothes shown in Vogue Knitting all appear to have been made in lighter fabrics and, to my mind, look far better for it. Several of the garments are also quite a bit shorter.

Vogue 7364

Vogue 7372

Vogue 7378

As far as I'm aware, most of the clothes which appear in Vogue Pattern Book were made up in the US, using materials which were bought there, and the same images were used for the British and American issues of the magazine. This is why the British edition rarely has any information on the fabrics used other than the type. Vogue Knitting however seems to have been an entirely UK publication. The recommended yarns for the various patterns are all from British firms, and details of the accessories shown and where to buy them are all included. The same approach is taken on the dressmaking pages.

Vogue 7366, with details of the fabric used and jewellery

I have so many questions. Were the softer fabrics and shorter lengths a reflection of what was popular in Britain at the time, and this was different from American taste? Also, who paid for all the fabric and making it up, as there was nothing in it for Condé Nast in terms of pattern sales? Was there perhaps a keen dressmaker on the Vogue Knitting staff? Alas, we will never know!

Wool Fair update

I have been working away on my Wool Fair cardigan, aka Lee Target 1232.

The cardigan

If you are a fan of working stockinette in the round because it saves having to do purl rows, then this is not the pattern for you. There is a lot of purling to create the textured knit shown on the cover. Rows of K1 P1 alternate with purl rows, so overall three-quarters of the stitches are purl. I don't find this so bad on the purl rows, but the K1 P1 rows are slow. The stitch effect is slightly obscured by my choice of a tweed yarn, but it does look interesting overall.

Close-up

The method of knitting the whole cardigan in one piece means that it goes from 66 stitches for casting on the back ribbing to 174 stitches at its widest point.

Progress so far

I've just started the backs of the sleeves, and these rows are long. Instead of Sleeve Island, I'm clearly going to be spending some time on Sleeve Peninsular. I can't imagine how the original knitters of this pattern wrangled 174 stitches on straight needles instead of the flexible circular needles we have now.

Showing the sleeve increases

Because I'm knitting with Aran (worsted) yarn instead of DK, the project and unused wool are a tight squeeze in my usual knitting bag. So as a break from all that purling I made a new, slightly larger, one. I used a remnant of curtain fabric from my stash, and lined it with plain cotton, also from stash. My original design seemed a bit shallow when I made it up, so I deepened it by adding a band of the plain cotton round the top.

The completed bag

Reorded on the Stashometer

It only used a metre of fabric overall but, as I don't seem to be doing much dressmaking at present, it’s better than nothing.

Progress?

(In which I have another rant about Modern Life.)

I need to replace my phone. It has been glitching from time to time and apparently this is because, at all of three-and-a-bit years old, it cannot handle the latest technology used in various updates. I'm also going to have to do something about my Windows 10 laptop this year, although at least I've had that for eight years.

Not in need of an upgrade any time soon

As someone who makes most of her own clothes on a 92-year-old sewing machine which is still going strong and for which I can get spares, I am unimpressed, but not surprised, by all this. We live in a world where built-in obsolescence is king, and hang the consequences. I do appreciate that I am not comparing like for like - my sewing machine is purely mechanical and therefore far less complex than something which relies on software. But I still think that lessons could be learned from the way Singer attempted to keep older machines up to date, rather than just encourage/expect their owners to upgrade to a newer model.

The starting point seems to have been the idea that a Singer machine was an investment which was expected to last a long time, and to be passed down through generations (as happened with my mum's machine, which is now mine). So when electric machines became the norm, Singer devised a motor and light which could be attached to a hand crank or treadle model, using fixings which were already part of the machine.

The sewing machine as heirloom . . .

. . . and how to bring it up to date

Similarly, various attachments were designed which allowed a straight stitch machine to do fancier sewing by moving the fabric from side to side.

Attachments for my Singer machines

I already have a buttonhole attachment from, I think, the 1950s, but recently acquired an older version. It's in a cardboard box rather than a 'modern' plastic case, and uses wingnuts rather than plastic dials to make adjustments to width etc, but underneath the cosmetic improvements it's the same.

My older buttonholer

The attachments were made with the same longevity in mind as the machines, with anti-corrosion paper pasted into the box.

It clearly worked, as the buttonholer is rust-free

The 'zigzagger' is mechanically similar to the buttonholer, in terms of the way it moves the fabric. It comes with four different cams, which produce the various style of zigzag illustrated on the box lid.

Wonderful artwork

The zigzagger, with one of the cams inserted

The stitch design is on the cam

Singer also produced further sets of cams for the zigzagger and yes, I am keeping an eye out for them!

The final attachment which I have is the hemstitcher. It is by all accounts quite tricky to use.

Unlike the other two, it doesn't have a casing

It's also the only one of the three which still has its instruction leaflet, but all of these are available online.

The hemstitcher could also be used to produce a picot edging.

From the instructions

My mum can remember picot edging being offered as a service by the local Singer shop, for anyone who didn't want to try it themselves. The effect looked like this.

Picot edging on a frill

Seen from a modern economic perspective, Singer's determination to keep older machines usable rather than sell new ones seems bizarre. Presumably it came from a strong belief in the quality of their original product. Of course, ultimately none of this did Singer any good. They were slow to adapt to the changing market, and eventually folded. (The Singer of today is a different company from the original.) But I'm glad to have at least one piece of equipment in my life which I can expect to last for years to come.

Summer, reissues, and a very strange pattern

After a brief dalliance with warmth and sunshine the weather has reverted to being cold and grey, and I'm back in winter clothes. So I'm taking refuge in a new-to-me issue of Vogue Pattern Book, June - July 1954.

Dressing like this feels a long way off

Here light summer colours reign supreme, in striking sketches of summer dresses with accessories to match.

Pink, and surprisingly modern-looking shoes

Blue, and some covetable earrings

Mauve, with impossibly high (for me) sandals

A whole suit of yellow might be a bit much

Sunshine yellow carries on into the feature on Couturier designs.

The feeling of summer

I thought that I recognised one of the patterns and, sure enough, it was reissued in 2015.

Couturier pattern 800

Reissued as 9105

In fact, summer 1954 couturier designs seem to have been a bumper source of reissue patterns. I have two more in my collection.

794 top right and 797 bottom right

Reissued as 8999 . . .

. . . and 8687

One pattern which Vogue has not reissued (to the best of my knowledge) is 8338. It's heavily promoted in this issue, with a double-page spread.

Vogue's "special choice for summer"

"simplicity itself"

It also turns up in an advertisement for Wemco fabrics.

The striped fabric accentuates the construction

The dress is described as slipping over your head, fastening together at the front with a single hook and eye, and then tying at the back. The line drawing on the pattern envelope gives an idea of its shape.

Full at the front and straight at the back

It's almost a back-to-front version of this pattern, which came out in 1952 and was reissued in 2001.

Vogue 2401

Much as I liked my version, there’s no denying that the skirt was prone to flapping open. At least because the opening is at the front, I could see what was going on, and act accordingly. I really don’t think I would be comfortable in a dress which is similar, but with the opening at the back (especially as the back pattern piece, as shown on CoPA, doesn't look very wide)! To me, the design gives the impression of being something which Vogue put out as a competitor to Butterick's 'walkaway' dress, possibly without a lot of thought to the practicalities of wearing it. I would love to know how well the pattern actually sold.