Button joy

So far, so good. Despite, or possibly because of, a stressful week, I've forced myself to make time to do some sewing rather than just sit there and stress. And guess what? I've felt better for it.

The Wearing History underwear pattern is a good way to ease myself back into historical sewing. It's entirely straightforward for someone who is used to using vintage patterns, and Lauren's notes clear up any areas which might need a little more information. In a quieter week I would have it finished already. But it wasn't, I haven't, and it's not complex enough to merit two posts. So instead, here's a short post about one aspect of it which has cheered me up far more than it had any reason to - the buttons.

The pattern

I'm making the leftmost option, the combinations without a fitted waistband. The back piece extends into a flap, which fastens to the front with two buttons. The search for appropriate buttons is a regular source of angst on this blog, but this time not only do I have suitable buttons, but there is almost nothing else that they could be used for.

The tools for the job

These are 'wash buttons', a metal base covered in linen, specifically designed for items which would be laundered frequently and washed at very high temperatures. Unlike shell or bone buttons, they could also be put through a mangle with no danger of breaking. Cotton underwear is precisely the sort of thing these buttons were designed for. These ones were in button boxes in sewing collections which I have bought at auction, and I had kept them while expecting to never have a reason to use them. But their time has come!

Whereas most button cards are plain, washing buttons often seem to be on cards marked into squares or columns. I have no idea why.

Found on Etsy

I would have thought that boil-proof buttons which can go through a mangle would be a thing of the past, but no. They are still made by Prym, among others.

Still going strong

Not that I need to buy new, as I have some already. As I said, I’m unreasonably pleased by this small victory.

Having a go

This may be a bad idea (although goodness knows, it won't be the first of those to grace this blog) but, despite having next to no sewing time at present, I've decided to take part in this.

It's been a while

Although I did a little historical sewing in 2024, I haven't participated in the HSM since 2020, and I miss it. So on the basis of 'what is the worst that could happen?' I'm just going to jump back in with a project I've had in mind for a while - making a 1915 outfit. As I have no clothing at all from that era, I need to make the full ensemble, ideally working from the inside out.

1915 fashions from Fashion: A Timeline in Photographs: 1850 to Today

Luckily for me, I've got some help. Back in July 2016 The Dreamstress spent a fortnight living as much as possible like a middle class Wellington housewife would have done a century earlier, and documented the experience on her website. There was information about food and keeping house, but also a fair bit about what she wore. Since then, she has issued several of her own patterns for garments from the era. And I am shamelessly using all this information to build my own wardrobe.

First up will be the base layer, for which I am using this pattern from Wearing History.

Chemise or combinations, circa 1917

It comes with a warning that the original instructions are very limited, but having made period undies before it looks quite straightforward. Plus, The Dreamstress made this pattern up for an HSM challenge and wrote about it, so I have lots of hand holding for my first foray back into historical sewing.

I'm horribly aware that my plans could very easily be derailed by Life at any moment. But if that happens, it happens. I'm not making this for anyone else, or for a deadline, so it's a very low risk project in terms of getting it completed. And whatever may be waiting in the wings, I will get more done than if I had never even tried. So here we go.

More from the eighties

I haven't become obsessed with the decade, honestly. It's just that I’ve found another 1980s item which is relevant to this blog.

A while ago, I bought a number of issues of Vogue Pattern Book at auction. I didn't have the time to go through them properly when they arrived, but last week I finally did. And discovered that the lot included a couple of issues of Vogue Knitting, including this one.

Autumn/Winter 1984 issue

From reading the very small print (literally so, I had to use a magnifying glass!) I discovered that this was not the magazine I'd posted about previously. In 1968, Vogue Pattern Book was published by Butterick, but Vogue Knitting was still part of Condé Nast. At some point Vogue Knitting must have ceased publication, and was then relaunched in 1982 by Butterick. Butterick appears to have bought more than just the name from Condé Nast, as each issue includes a pattern which has previously appeared in the magazine.

From the Fall/Winter 1965 issue

Vogue Pattern Book always had a British edition, containing advertisements and occasionally some editorial from the UK, and the original Vogue Knitting was the same. The new version however was purely a US publication. This had clearly led to complaints from readers in other countries, who couldn't get the yarn required for the patterns - hence the reference on the cover to the "international yarn buying guide".

A lot of the designs are very 1980s. Both in patterns in the magazine and advertisements for wool companies.

Two patterns . . .

. . . and two advertisements

As with the pattern book, there are some useful 'how to' articles, including cable knitting and how to size up a pattern. I was less convinced by the piece on the new (and I suspect, short-lived) trend of 'condo' knitting, done one 19mm and one 4.5mm needle.

The 'condo' pattern

There are some patterns I like, however. I have seen this somewhere else recently, and had no idea that it was from the 1980s.

I'd never wear something like this, but I like it

And then I turned a page, and found this.

Looks familiar

It's the jumper which had appeared in the Autumn 1984 issue of Vogue Patterns, which I blogged about here. I wrote in that post that I was rather taken with it and might need to look out for the issue of Vogue Knitting.

I could remember where I'd seen this before

Because this is a 1980s magazine rather than a 1940s one, the pattern is given in several sizes, so I don't need to refer to that article on sizing up. There's even a handy schematic, so I can work out how to shorten the design to fit me.

All the information you need

Of course, this is entirely hypothetical at present. My ability to find things I want to knit vastly exceeds the speed at which I actually knit. But it's good to know that I now have the pattern.

Where you find it

I am back to hospital visiting on an almost daily basis, and when that is finished, I will be spending a lot of time visiting my mum at home. Dressmaking isn't the most portable of pastimes, so I can see a lot of knitting getting done. (It's a good job I have a few projects planned!)

I've been working away on my Dandelion Air shawl over the last few weeks, even taking it with me when I go to visit Mum, and squeezing in a cheeky row or two while we chat. (Annoyingly, the train journey is far too bumpy for knitting - note to Transport for Wales: please fix this!) Initially the colourway of the yarn reminded me of carousel horses, but knitted up it's more like a particularly jaunty fruit salad. Either way, it's nice to be working with something so bright and cheery just now.

On a circular needle - I did learn from my past mistake!

Several of the other ladies on Mum's ward knit, so they were keen to see what I was up to. One was especially taken with my yarn holder.

It rotates as you pull on the yarn

It's meant to hang from the wrist, but I found it a bit of a distraction there so I push it up towards my elbow, which is perfect. When I'm at home, I hang it from my work lamp. Mine came from the annual yarn fair in Port Sunlight, but I have since found them for sale online.

Because the work in progress prompted so much interest, I ended up wearing my Reyna, Close to You and Blue Dahlia shawls on different visits. None of my friends knit, so it was lovely to have an opportunity to chat about all things woolly with some other knitters, albeit in unexpected circumstances.

Rimini

The pattern I used for my 1986 dress was part of Butterick's "Rimini" line, which I had never heard of before. So of course, I had to vanish down the rabbit hole of research.

I'm not sure how I had managed to avoid it, as there are lots of Rimini patterns for sale online, dating from 1984 to 2000.

The earliest and latest examples I found

There were a couple which were overly frilly for my taste.

Not for me, thanks

But overall, there was a very definite 'look', which mostly chimes with my non-frilly aesthetic.

More like it

I may have managed to miss a line which was sold for at least 16 years and included a number of patterns I would have happily made at the time, but others didn't. Judging by the frequency with which this 1987 pattern appeared in my ebay and Etsy trawls, it must have been hugely popular.

Clearly a bestseller

All of which was very interesting, but didn't provide me with a lot of information. "Rimini" is too vague a term to search on, and "Rimini pattern" brought back a lot of ceramics! So instead I tried the name which appears under the Rimini logo.

A possible clue

This was much more useful. Richard Warren was a designer for the Warren Group, which was founded by his late father David in 1967. Seeing a gap in the market for better quality dresses in luxurious fabrics, he designed a line under his own name to fill it, and sold the garments in stores including Neiman Marcus. The Warren Group also included the labels David Warren, DW3, Reggio, and Rimini.

Butterick clearly had an extensive relationship with the Warren Group, as I was able to find patterns for all of the labels apart from Reggio.

David Warren

DW3

Richard Warren

My Rimini dress undoubtedly included design details which took time to make but lifted it out of the ordinary - as Richard Warren intended. What I haven't been able to discern is how the labels (or patterns) differed from each other in terms of intended market. If any American readers can shed any light on this, I'd love to hear from you.

Something new

I have an entirely new project in mind. It's a long time since I've done any historical sewing, and I would definitely like to get back to it. Completing my 1986 dress has reminded me just how much I can get done, if I put my mind to it, and how satisfying it is to really work on something. So I'm hoping to get back into the Historical Sew Monthly this year.

I've discovered that despite the name, knitted projects are also allowed. This may have always been the case, but when I last made something for the HSM I wasn't a knitter, so possibly I just didn't notice.

Historical knitting is a whole new rabbit hole for me to fall down! And happily, there's lots to investigate. In particular, I've discovered the Antique Pattern Library - a mind-boggling collection of patterns for all sorts of crafts, and free to access.

It also gives publication dates, which is how I know that this booklet dates from 1915. I was thinking of making a teens era ensemble anyway, so this definitely caught my eye.

At 68 pages, it's a substantial 'booklet'

There is an initial chapter on the basics of knitting and crochet, along with information on different types of wool. This includes "vest wool" and "petticoat wool", as well as a variety of different types of 4-ply. The subsequent chapters cover different types of knitted and crocheted items, with an illustration for each chapter. There are lots of items for babies and children, but chapter six is "Waistcoat, shawls, jackets and spencer".

The items in chapter six

Most of the shawls are crocheted, which is a new skill too far for me. But one is knitted.

Close-up of the knitted shawl

A quick skim through the instructions suggests that it's within my capabilities. There's still lots to work out in terms of yarn choice etc, but historical knitting, here I come!

The 1986 dress complete

National Museums Liverpool turns 40 this year, and the celebration began with the Director's Dinner on Thursday 13th February. This was the event for which I was making my 1986 dress and, fortunately, I got it finished in time. There wasn't a steady stream of people at the dinner asking me, 'Is that a 1980s dress?', so clearly it didn't look too spectacularly of its era.

I was however very glad that I had taken the shoulder seams in a bit, as even with that alteration the shoulders still look very 1980s to me.

It could only be from one decade

There is a stiffener in the sleeve head - an oval of fabric folded in half, gathered along the curved edge, and attached to the seam allowance. The pattern instructions are to make it from interfacing, but I used silk organza instead. Then the shoulder pads are positioned to extend about 1"/2.5cm into the sleeve head. In short, there's a lot of supporting structure in there.

The sleeve inside out, showing all the layers

The sleeves are fairly full all the way down, not just at the head, and fasten at the bottom. There's no cuff, instead the sleeve is folded, and a single buttonhole is sewn through both layers. This then goes over the button sewn onto the sleeve.

The sleeve unbuttoned . . .

. . . and buttoned

While the front of the dress is obviously the focal point, the back isn't totally plain. There's no shaping at all, no darts in either the skirt or the bodice. Instead there's a back belt, which fastens over the zip with buttons. It isn't interfaced, but I did add some interfacing to the buttonhole area to keep it stable.

Back view

I avoided my usual button dilemmas by going for self-cover buttons. The sleeve buttons were made from sections of plain black fabric, but for the back I decided to go for something a bit fancier. The print contains one section which is half green and half beige, so I definitely had to use that.

Fabric cut out from the printed sections

The completed belt

And here is the finished dress, standing and seated.

As I wore it to the dinner

The shoulders look less extreme on me instead of Nancy

Because I bought no fabric last year which I didn't use, the Stashometer is in the rare state of starting from zero. It feels like a bit of a cheat, but I'm taking it anyway!

Amount in equals amount out, for once

The dress took a long time to make, far longer than I was expecting, and I only finished it a few hours before I was due to set off for the dinner. But a lot of that was because I took the time to really do the job properly, and I'm so glad that I did. The fit is spot on, and everything is properly aligned and neatly finished. It ties in perfectly with two of my sewing goals for 2026; slow sewing and building my skills - in this case pattern grading. On top of all that, I have so much going on just now that spending time absorbed in this project was a rare opportunity to feel like 'me' for a bit. Which is priceless.

Finally, one topic which came up several times at the dinner was just how few photos those of us who were alive 40 years ago have of ourselves from then. So if you've read this far (thank you!), here is a bonus shot from July 1986, taken with my parents after my graduation ceremony.

With much the same hairstyle as now!

Thanks to Mum's archive for the photo!