Stocking case prototype

It's entirely a matter of personal preference of course, and I know that a lot of people find them a complete faff, but I do like to finish off a vintage outfit with a pair of seamed stockings. For me, they serve a practical purpose as well - my legs resolutely refuse to tan these days, so some sort of hosiery is necessary to avoid blinding passers-by with the glare of my blueish-white limbs, and stockings look more like a deliberate choice than do tights.

Stockings co-ordinated to outfits

Naturally, when I was thinking about outfits for the Festival of Vintage, co-ordinated stockings were a must. I get mine from What Katie Did (this isn't an affiliated post, just my own observations), and usually keep them in their original packaging to avoid damage. But the prospect of actually 'going away' for the first time in over two years prompted me to finally get round to making a stocking case for travelling. Ultimately, I want to make a much larger case for storing all my pairs at home, so this was also a useful trial run.

Stocking cases or pouches, lined in silk or satin to avoid snagging the contents, used to be common items. Usually they consisted of just one or two compartments. But because I am storing stockings with different coloured seams, I decided that I wanted each pair to have a separate pocket, sufficiently see-through for me to identify the colour (WKD stockings have coloured welts as well as seams, so there's quite a lot of colour to see.)

I started by making a test pocket, based on the dimensions of a folded pair of stockings. It was made from organza, pleated at the corners to add depth to the pocket, and sewn onto a cotton base. The hem at the top is folded to the outside, to leave the inside of the pocket smooth.

Pocket mock-up, with stockings inside

Once I was happy with the dimensions, I drew the basic design of two-by-two pockets with a centre gap for the fold onto a piece of cotton with a Frixion pen.

The basic layout

I basted on the satin backing for the top two pockets, and redrew on the seam lines onto the satin. Then I pinned on the pockets along the bottom seam, with the pleats in place, and stitched along the drawn line.

Bottom seam ready to sew

Then I pinned the side seams and pleats, and sewed each one in turn. What Katie Did lingerie comes beautifully packaged in parcels tied with WKD ribbon, so I recycled the ribbon I've collected over the years to enclose the raw edge at the top of the pockets.

Side seams pinned

The process was repeated with the lower pockets, then the side satin panels were attached, and finally the centre panel.

Attaching the side panels

I wanted to use an open-ended zip so that the completed case would lie flat when opened, but this limited my choice of zips in terms of length and bulkiness - it's definitely something which needs more thought. The zip was attached round the edges, and the excess cotton fabric cut away. The backing fabric was attached, right sides together and with enough excess in the backing so that it would cover the seam allowance when turned right side out. Once the case was bagged out and the opening sewn up, I top-stitched all round the base of the zip.

Close-up of the zip and edging

All of this was sewn on Tilda, as the treadle gave me more control over speed and stopping than I felt I would get from my electric machine, while leaving me with both hands free.

And here is the end result. There are things I will definitely change next time, but for a first attempt I'm pretty pleased with it. It does the job, the zip is well away from all that delicate 15 dernier, and it's easy to tell which colour stockings are in each pocket. And apart from the zip, it was an entirely stash make as well - result!

Outside - open

Outside - closed

Inside - containing neutral, claret and green stockings

Another slip

(I did consider calling this post "Second slip", but I thought it might confuse any cricket fans out there!)

My lingerie-making continues, and I have finished the slip which I cut out a couple of weeks ago. This one is from a Maudella pattern, which I'm guessing dates from the late 1940s/early 1950s. I should start off by saying that the photos don't really do the end result justice; it looks far better on me than it does laid flat or on Nancy.

Maudella 4267, undated

As ever with Maudella patterns, the instructions are brief!

Cutting layout, instructions, and a large Sylko advert squeezed on the back

As an aside, I must add that knickers with a button fasten at the back seems like the last word in impracticality to me!

Tricky for bathroom visits, surely?

The pattern uses gathering to shape the bust cups, rather than darts, and the front and back are each just a single piece. I made it from the same fabric as the Style slip, and again used some modern construction techniques such as stay-stitching the edges of pieces to prevent stretching, and overlocking the seams.

I definitely prefer the darted cups; getting the gathers even on such a flimsy and slippery fabric was quite a challenge. I like the way that the cups join the front section, however. The instructions are for a lapped seam here, but I chose to do a simple right-sides-together join instead.

Gathered bust detail

I do think that for me, a design with centre back and front seams gives a better fit. I have a sway back, and the way that the Style pattern flares out a little on the centre back seam below the waist accommodates it well. Having the back section in a single piece and cut on the straight grain creates a shape which doesn't hang so neatly on me - this back view illustrates the problem, albeit in a slightly exaggerated way.

Not a perfect drape

I still have some of the fabric left, and I'm tempted to draft a hybrid pattern using my favourite parts of both designs - a single front piece, two back pieces, and the cups shaped with a series of small pleats rather than gathers.

One thing which I don't seem able to do is make a plain slip. I trimmed the neckline and the hem again, this time with some pink lace from my stash. The lace is only finished along one side, so I bound the raw edges with bias binding made from the leftovers of my 1930s camisole from long, long ago.

Lace and binding at the hem

The completed slip

One thing I noticed with both this and the Style slip is that the shoulder straps are positioned closer together at the front than I would like, and certainly closer together than the straps of any of my bras. To try to compensate for this, I bound the back and sides of the top edge with one length of binding, then bound the front separately and extended the binding to make the shoulder straps. I did worry that bias shoulder straps might stretch over time with the weight of the slip, so they have stays of narrow cotton tape sewn inside to stabilize them.

Angling the straps to make them wider

The slightly fuller shape and the binding meant that this slip used slightly more fabric than the previous one.

Still some way to go to break even

Style 1462 completed

My 1970s slip is finished, and I'm really pleased with it.

Arty flatlay shot!

As expected, most of the work needed to complete it was in sewing on the scalloped lace - next time I shall use a lace with a straight edge! It looks lovely, but it was a lot of work. I started at the back, in the hope that by the time I got to the front I would have perfected my lace-attaching technique, and certainly my skills improved over time.

This was the method I used: 

First, I sewed the lace round the hem of the slip with a small running stitch along the upper edge.

The stitches are just visible

Next, I pinned through the lace and fabric on the right side at key points on the motif.

Marking the points of the motif

Working on the wrong side, I used the pin positions as a guide to roughly cut away the fabric.

First trimming

I took the pins out, and used my Carrickmacross lace scissors to cut the fabric away from the three 'bumps' in the motif.

The bump on the scissor blade stops you from cutting the lace

Then I used my curved blade scissors to remove any remaining bits of fabric which showed through the lace.

The cutting away fine-tuned

I had to keep flipping the slip over to the right side to check it.

Making sure no fabric shows through the net ground

Once I was happy with the fabric shape, I overcast the raw edge onto the lace - and started all over again with the next motif!

The raw edge neatened

I had a little bit of lace left over, which was too small to use for much else, so I decided to trim the neckline as well. This involved sewing tiny pleats into the lace to give it a slight 'V' shape.

Pleating either side of the centre bow

The various slip patterns which I own use different methods for neatening the top edge. Some tell you to sew a very narrow hem, and some use bias binding. This instructions for this pattern are to cut a long bias strip, fold it wrong sides together, sew it onto the wrong side of the slip with a narrow hem, then fold it over and slip-stitch to the right side. I assumed that this was an old technique which had been superseded, but it is used on the armholes of my peacock dress, and also appears in Vogue 8888, the most modern lingerie pattern that I own.

The only lingerie pattern I own that's still in print

It was difficult not to stretch the bias strip as I was attaching it, which of course would make it narrower. I must confess that I rarely tack anything when I'm sewing, preferring the approach of a forest of pins and a lot of hope, but I made an exception for this.

Pinning and tacking the binding to the top edge

The straps are made from ribbon, and I folded the ends over to encase the raw edges of the lace.

The neckline and straps

Posting photographs of myself in my underwear is not my thing (I have absolutely no objection to other people doing it if they want to, it's just not for me), so Nancy was called upon to do the job. It turns out that most of the walls in my house are a similar colour to the slip, so I had to position her in front of some curtains in order for it to show up.

Nancy modelling the finished article

I had expected that making lingerie would be fiddly: the fabric would slide everywhere, and there would be a lot of hand sewing. All of this was true, but what I hadn't expected was how much I would enjoy it. A second slip, from a different pattern, has already been cut out, and I have acquired a couple more patterns. I have even managed to combine my new-found interest with my long-established love of 1979 Style patterns!

Any excuse to acquire more patterns!

Of course, a slip doesn't exactly make a huge impact on the Stashometer, but it's a start.

Only 1.2m, but better than nothing

Off at a tangent

It’s a new year, and I'm back sewing again - yay! I'm not short of projects, either. Last year's December dress is still outstanding, I've got some brushed cotton waiting to be made into a cosy winter dress, and there's also the first challenge for the Sew A Vintage Style Dress Community (the new name for the Vintage-Sew-A-Dress-A-Month, which has now moved to quarterly challenges). Oh, and I really should do something with that black velvet remnant before it creases too much.

So, am I cracking on with any of these? Reader, I am not.

Yes, it's happened again

Debi, aka Ms1940McCall, who makes the most wonderful vintage clothing (see it here and here), has come up with the idea of a monthly theme for her sewing and has invited others to join in. January's theme is 'loungewear', which she has expanded to include underwear. Which prompted me to think about a project I have had in mind for years, and make myself some slips.

I love full, rather than waist, slips: they have the same effect as lining a dress without the hassle of having to add a lining and, of course, one slip can be worn with multiple dresses. Naturally, I'm talking about the proper, old-fashioned, shaped sort of slip, not the modern ones which are essentially a tube of stretch fabric with shoulder straps. Without really meaning to, I have acquired a selection of vintage slips, mostly from the 1970s.

My slip 'collection'

The two on the left are both 'St Michael', which was Marks and Spencer's own-brand label. They are both too small for me, but I have kept them with a view to copying the styles someday. The other two are labels I have never heard of. The blue one is (rather haphazardly) made from cotton, and like so many RTW clothes it doesn't fit me well due to my short torso. Which is why making my own is the way forward.

These are the patterns I have to choose from. I own a couple of others, but they are for a 32" bust and redrafting to my size felt like a job too far until I know more about lingerie making.

Patterns from the 1940s to the 1970s

The Blackmore pattern is very fitted and has a side placket closure, which is more work than I want for this particular project, and Simplicity 9115 requires stretch fabric, which I don't have. I love Simplicity S20, especially the contrast cup details, but the main part is cut on the bias and so is a bit of a fabric hog, and I've got limited supplies of suitable fabric in my stash. Style 4905 and Maudella 4267 look as though they are essentially the same pattern. I decided (for once) to start with something easy, so narrowed it down to Style 1565 or Style 1462.

Reducing the choice to two

I was amazed by the difference in bust dart size between the two patterns. There is no suggestion on the patterns taking cup size into account, so I'm guessing that 1565 fits far more closely to the ribcage.

That's quite a difference in bust shaping

As an aside - Style had clearly not long moved to printed patterns when 1565 was produced, and I love the way that it uses the same markings as older punched Style patterns; for example the long oval to mark the fold. Obviously, Style decided to stick to what their customers were used to, but printed.

Sticking to the old punched symbols

In the end I went for 1462. It's very simple, so a good way to start, especially as I'm using a drapey, slippery, fabric. Also, my love of late 1970s Style patterns isn't going anywhere soon, so a 1976 slip to wear underneath seems like a good idea. I left the bodice section unchanged, and took 5cm/2" out of the 'skirt' length above the waist.

The pattern itself is straightforward. Join the backs together, join the fronts together, dart the bodice pieces and join them together, attach the bodice to the front, sew the side seams, neaten the raw edges, add straps - done. The trickiest part was attaching the bodice to the front: despite my best efforts it ended up slightly off, and with a minor pucker. If I make this pattern again (and I probably will), I'm tempted to experiment with attaching the bodice pieces to the front pieces separately, and then sewing the centre front seam in one go.

Smooth on one side, slightly less so on the other

I finished all the seams with a narrow, three-thread overlock, and was on track to have a plain but perfectly serviceable slip made up. Until I decided that it was a little too plain.

Usable, but nothing special

So, off I went to trawl through my laces and trims. I found a lovely scalloped lace which I bought years ago for a project, but in the end couldn't use because it was slightly too short, and the shop didn't have any more. It will look perfect round the hem of the slip, but my machine sewing skills aren't up to attaching it, so it will have to be done by hand. Gulp. I see a lot of box sets in my immediate future - and all those other projects may have to wait a while longer!

With the trim laid over

Historical Sew Monthly - Basic

This month I've completed the May challenge for the Historical Sew Monthly; Basic. This is defined as "Make a garment that can be used for many occasions (like a shift . . .)". For this challenge I made the chemise of my 1874 costume, because what is more basic than a chemise/shift?

I used the same pattern that I used for my drawers, Laughing Moon pattern #100, Ladies' Victorian Underwear. I adapted the pattern to remove the opening on the front yoke, click here for the full details.

The completed chemise

I decided to sew the front and back together and then do the pintucks all the way round, whereas the instructions suggest doing the pintucks first on the separate pieces. Because the chemise will be worn under a corset, I also ignored the suggestion in the instructions to use ordinary or French seams, and instead used flat felled seams at the sides. I started with the chemise pieces wrong sides together, to keep the inside as smooth as possible. Happily, it appears that my pintucking skills have greatly improved since I made the drawers.

Once the chemise part was completed, I pinned it to the yoke, right sides together, and sewed most of the way round. The only part which I omitted was the straight section at the centre front -  it was just too difficult to manipulate the fabric. Instead I turned the yoke part under once I had pressed and graded the rest of the seam, and hand-sewed it down. Then I turned under the seam allowance of the yoke, and slip-stitched it in place.

The hand-sewn portion of attaching the yoke

The photograph above also shows the embroidery I did on the chemise yoke. Although embroidery appears on earlier chemises, from the examples I found online it appeared that by the 1870s it had largely been replaced by insertions, but I didn't have any suitable trim to do this. Then I found this illustration of late 1870s combinations in Nancy Bradfield's Costume in Detail (page 250 of my 1997 paperback edition), which appeared to show an embroidered yoke.

Embroidery inspiration . . .

. . . and my sketch based on this

Despite the embroidery, the completed chemise looked a little austere. I wanted to add some lace trim, but everything I could find, either for sale or in my stash, was too wide and/or too synthetic. Then in a separate box in deep, deep stash I found some narrow cotton lace! It is a little darker than I would have liked, and now I wish I had done the embroidery in off-white to go with it, but no matter. It's not as if it will be on show!

Another two metres out of the fabric stash!

The small print:
The Challenge: May, Basic
What the item is: A chemise
How it fits the challenge: A shift or chemise is probably the most basic part of any ensemble
Fabric: Cotton, possibly voile
Pattern: Laughing Moon #100, Ladies' Victorian Underwear
Year: 1870s-1880s
Notions: lace for trimming, embroidery floss
How historically accurate is it? The straight seams are sewn by machine, which would have been possible at this time, and the rest is handsewn, so I would say 80%
Hours to complete:This project has really demonstrated just how slowly I sew. The embroidery and lace trimming took me a fair while, and the total was around 24 hours
First worn: Not yet
Total cost: The fabric and lace are from stash; I'm estimating £14 for the fabric and £3 for the lace. The embroidery floss was £1, so £18 in total

Laughing Moon #100 - making the chemise without a placket

Laughing Moon pattern 100, Ladies' Victorian Underwear, contains patterns for two different corsets, drawers, and a chemise. The chemise has front yoke consisting of two overlapping parts, which can be either fastened together with buttons or left to lie flat. The pattern details suggest that the front yoke can be made in a single piece with no placket if preferred (the neckline is wide enough to be pulled over the head without the need for the placket), but there are no instructions on how to do this, and part of the construction method given will not work with a single-piece yoke front.

I wanted to make the chemise without the placket, and I these are my notes on how I made the yoke.

Pattern illustration (top) and my single piece version (below)

Note: I cannot vouch for the historical accuracy of this construction method - indeed I suspect that it is not very accurate at all, as it is a technique used in modern dressmaking - but it does provide a neat finish.

My completed yoke

The first thing to consider is the cutting out. Pattern piece 24, the front yoke, allows for both overlap of the pieces and a seam allowance. For a single-piece yoke, the piece needs to be cut from folded fabric, with the 'centre front' line placed on the fold. To avoid any confusion, I traced off a new pattern piece. This also means that I still have the original piece, if I want to make a chemise with a placket in the future.

Place this line on the fold of the fabric when cutting out

Cut two of the new piece 24.

The instructions state to sew the yoke fronts to the back at the shoulders, and then repeat this with the facing pieces. Yoke and facing are then sewn together around the neckline and armholes, and the completed yoke turned right side out. However if the front yoke is a single piece, it is impossible to do this, as the yoke cannot be turned through.

This cannot be done with a closed front yoke

Instead, stay stitch all the curved edges of all the yoke pieces, then pin the yoke front to the yoke front facing, right sides together. Sew right round the neckline. Sew each armhole from the bottom to about three quarters of the way up. In the picture below, the pins mark the section to be stitched.

Sew the section between the red pins

Trim, grade and snip the seams (do not trim the unsewn sections of the armholes yet), then turn the yoke front right side out and press. Repeat the process with the yoke back.

Open out the shoulders of the yoke pieces, and with right sides together pin the yoke front to the yoke back.

Yoke front and back pinned together

Sew the shoulder seam of both yoke and facing in one continuous row of stitching. Press the seams open, and trim off the excess.

Press under the seam allowance of the remaining section of the armhole on both yoke and facing, you may need to snip the curves. Once you are happy that the edges of the yoke and facing match, trim off the excess fabric from the seam allowance. Sew yoke and facing together using either ladder stitch or overcasting, as preferred. I used ladder stitch, with a couple of overcast stitches at the shoulder seam to hold everything in place.

Sewing up the armhole

At this point you have a choice. The pattern instructions suggest you attach the chemise front to the front yoke and the back to the back yoke, then sew the entire side seam from hem to armhole. However to me this seemed likely to create a lot of bulk at the bottom of the armhole. I preferred to complete the yoke as a separate piece.

The way this is done is very similar to the shoulder seams. Open out the front and back yokes, pin the side seams right sides together, and sew in one continous line. Press the seam open, and trim off the excess.

The side seam pinned together

The result is a yoke with smooth seams.

My completed yoke on my dressform

I will cover making and attaching the chemise, and a bit about the embroidery, in my next post.