A new CC41 dress

After the debacle that was the Dress of Frump, and the not-total-success of the green dress (although as hoped, that has improved with several washes), I really wanted a nice, easy, guaranteed successful project. So I decided to make a new CC41 dress - and not from green fabric. The original is looking a bit tired - hardly surprising as when I checked I discovered that it was made in May 2014. I thought I’d only had it for a couple of years; if I’d made it after the CC41 regulations came into force (confusingly, in 1942), it would have seen me through the war!

Just to explain, the name of the pattern came about when I decided to make a dress based on the one my mum is wearing (made either by her or her mum) in a photograph taken during World War II. In keeping with the original, I then decided to try to make the dress in line with the Civilian Clothing Regulations (CC41) in place at the time.

The inspiration - Mum is second from the left

I made a couple of changes to the pattern this time, to fix things which were annoying me; although obviously not annoying me that much, as I’ve happily worn the original for four summers! I made the bodice front a tiny bit longer at the centre, just between the darts, and I improved the fit of the skirt back by using the technique I applied to Simplicity 1777, namely putting two darts on each side. I also lengthened the skirt a bit. What I forgot to do was take any progress pictures.

The fabric featured in the original Collage of Shame back in January 2016, and I’d had it for a long time then. The small print makes it perfect for a 1940s dress, as it doesn’t waste fabric in matching up patterns. I flew in the face of the CC41 regulations however, and added trim to the collar and sleeves in the form of ric-rac. I could have just machine stitched it down the centre, but I don’t like the way the sides curl up if you do that, so instead I hand sewed it in place, loop by loop. I was especially pleased with the mitred corners in the collar. I cheated with the shoulder pads however, and used modern bought ones instead of making my own.

Ric-rac round the collar

The dress fastens with four buttons on the front, complete with hand sewn buttonholes, and a period-appropriate side placket with press studs (snaps) and a hook and loop at the waist seam - zips were forbidden under the CC41 regulations. There is an in-seam pocket on the other side.

Placket

Pockets are always good

Although I started this dress in July, for some reason it's taken until now to finish it. I did manage to wear it this weekend, though - and it's always good to have an almost unworn summer dress in the wardrobe ready to pull out when the warmer weather comes round again.

At last! A successful project!

The Midland Hotel

(In which I finally manage something vaguely resembling a photoshoot!)

I’ve been away with my parents for a few days, to Morecambe, on the Lancashire coast. For many British people of a certain age, ‘Morecambe’ immediately makes them think of this.

Statue of Eric Morecambe on the promenade

However it makes me think of this.

The Midland Hotel, Morecambe

The Midland Hotel opened almost 81 years ago, on 12 July 1933. It was built by the London, Midland and Scottish (LMS) Railway, and replaced a Victorian hotel of the same name. The new hotel was designed by Oliver Hill in the ‘Moderne’ style, in the hope that this would attract wealthy visitors to the town. At the time Morecambe was a popular holiday resort, and among the guests at the new hotel were a number of famous stars of the day, who were appearing at the nearby Winter Gardens.

The hotel in the 1930s

Being a railway hotel, it also featured in LMS advertising of the time.

LMS poster

During World War 2 the Midland was requisitioned, and became an RAF hospital. After the war the hotel was returned to the LMS in a very dilapidated condition, but was eventually restored (although the revolving entrance door, which had been removed to allow access for wheelchairs and stretchers, was never reinstated). However in the 1970s cheap, sunny, Mediterranean holidays somehow lured holidaymakers away from the joys of the British summer, and Morecambe, like many other coastal resorts, went into decline. When I last saw the Midland, in September 1997, it was in a very sorry state (click here to see just how bad things got). Two years later it closed altogether.

Happily in 2003 the hotel was bought by property developers Urban Splash, who restored it to its former glory, but with modern facilities. Where additions have been made, such as the third floor rooms and the new dining room, these have been done in a way that ties in with the original building, but are obviously not original.

The hotel from the Stone Jetty

View showing the third floor addition

When the Midland was built, its modernity was emphasised with a number of original works of art, mostly by Eric Gill. Oliver Hill commissioned Gill to create the pair of seahorses which decorate the central staircase tower (although there are suggestions that their form owes more than a little to the local Morecambe Bay shrimps!).

Eric Gill seahorse (or shrimp?)

Gill also carved a large Portland stone panel for the entrance lounge, entitled "Odysseus welcomed from the sea by Nausicaa". It depicts a story from Homer’s Odyssey, when the shipwrecked Odysseus is met by Nausicaa and three female servants carrying food, drink and clothing. The scene was chosen to symbolise the hospitality being offered to guests by the hotelier.

Odysseus panel

On the ceiling above the spiral staircase is another Gill work with a watery theme; a carved medallion of Neptune, Triton and two mermaids. Around the edge is a quote from a sonnet by Wordsworth; "and hear old Triton blow his wreathed horn".

Neptune panel

The medallion was designed and carved by Gill, and painted by his son-in-law Denis Tegetmeier. Tegetmeier also painted the fourth and final Gill work; a map of the west coast of England from the Lake District in the north to Birkenhead in the south, with the Royal Scot (an LMS train) running along the top.

The map mural, with Morecambe at its centre

The hotel, and another seahorse

Liverpool is represented by a small image of the Adelphi (another LMS hotel), and the two cathedrals. When the Midland opened in July 1933 the Anglican cathedral was in use, albeit not complete, but work on the Metropolitan cathedral had only begun a month earlier. Building was halted in 1941, and after the war the original design was abandoned as too costly. So the mural, which used Lutyens' original design, shows a cathedral that never was.

Liverpool's cathedrals

If you look closely at the word Thirlmere, you can just see some ghostly lines on the left. This is because Gill originally carved ‘Thurlmere’, and had to correct it! We’ve all been there (OK, I’ve been there).

Oops!

Some of the original furniture from the hotel survived, and is still in use today.

Cocktail cabinet

The two circular Marion Dorn rugs in the lobby, with their pattern of rippling waves, were lost and have been recreated.

One of the Marion Dorn rugs in the lobby

Marion Dorn also designed the seahorse mosaic in the lobby. The motif was also used on advertising, crockery and table linen, and even on the end of the metal banister rail.

Marion Dorn's seahorse mosaic

The seahorse on the banister, with some of the original paint just visible

In keeping with this, Urban Splash used a version of the seahorse on the drain cover in the showers.

Modern interpretation of the seahorse

The rotunda at the north end of the hotel originally housed the tearoom, and was decorated with a mural representing Night and Day by Eric Ravilious.

The rotunda at dusk

The original Ravilious Rotunda artwork. Credit: RIBA

Unfortunately a shortage of time meant that the mural was painted onto wet plaster, and began to deteriorate almost at once. It was painted out a few years later. In the late 1980s a temporary version of the mural was created from photographs of the original when part of an episode of Poirot was filmed at the Midland. Then last year the mural was repainted in what is now the Rotunda Bar.

Then and now - painting the mural

While not an exact copy (it has to take into account new doorways and the surrounding colour scheme) the new mural includes many elements of the original, plus modern additions such as the wind turbines in Morecambe Bay.

The new 'Day' mural, with wind turbines on the horizon

Figure linking Day and Night

The new 'Night' mural

Despite all these artworks, my favourite element of the hotel is part of the structure itself; the cantilever spiral staircase in the main lobby. This curls like a seashell up through three stories, crossing the long vertical windows of the tower as it does so.

The staircase from the top

And from the bottom

The windows have a double layer of glass, so that the lighting in the central section is not visible from the outside or the inside.

The central window lit up at night

I took lots (and I mean lots) of photographs of the staircase, in an attempt to capture just how fabulous it is. I still don’t feel that I’ve done it justice though, so you’ll just have to take my word for it.

View from the top landing

It’s a staircase that you really ought to glide down, in a stylish 1930s bias-cut evening gown. Sadly my wardrobe is lacking in such a gown (and I don’t have the figure to carry it off anyway). So, I made do with my now-improved 'feedsack' dress (accessorised with the straw bag), and my CC41 dress instead.

Black and White

The latest Historical Sew Fortnightly challenge is Black and White. The challenge (unsurprisingly) is to make something in black, or in white, or in black and white, but I have interpreted this quite loosely and made something from a fabric with a black background. The inspiration is from a black and white photograph though, and also from a black and white logo.

I decided to make a 1940s dress from a pretty cotton I had found, which has pink and cream flowers on the aforementioned background. Both the print and the repeat are quite small, which is appropriate for the period, as large patterns and repeats were more wasteful of fabric. Mum (my primary source for all things dressmaking related from the 1940s onwards) thought that a black-based fabric was unlikely for the 1940s, but I did manage to find a couple of examples of similar fabrics in books.

I have posted before about rationing in Britain in the 1940s. Rationing ensured that limited resources were shared equally, but did nothing to address quality. An expensive dress which would last for several years required the same number of coupons as a cheap dress which would last a fraction of that time, so rationing was less of a problem for the better off.

Initially the British Board of Trade tackled the problem by setting specifications for the quality of the fabric manufactured for making civilian clothing. The system of making clothes from these textiles and controlling the prices they were sold for was known as ‘Utility’, and by the end of the war more than three quarters of all clothing produced came under the Utility scheme.

Utility clothing was identified by the ‘CC41’ label, which stood for ‘Controlled Commodity 1941’.

The (black and white) CC41 logo

Running alongside the Utility scheme were the Austerity regulations, which were designed to save on both cloth and labour. Among other things, these regulations limited the number of pockets and buttons a garment could have, the number, style and size of pleats on dresses and skirts, and the width of men’s trousers.

Marks and Spencer Utility dress, © M&S Company Archive

In 1942 the Board of Trade commissioned a number of British designers to create suits, coats and dresses which used Utility cloth and met all the Austerity regulations. In addition, there were yardage requirements for each garment; for a dress the limit was 2 yards (1.8 metres). One of the designers was Digby Morton, who incorporated the CC41 logo on the buttons of this suit.

1942 Digby Morton suit (detail) © Victorian and Albert Museum, London

Those who were handy with a needle could save precious coupons by making their own clothes. 36” / 91.5cm wide fabric required three coupons per yard for wool and two per yard for cotton; quite a saving on the eleven or seven coupons required for dresses of the same fabrics. My mum and Granny T were at a double advantage here. As well as being able to sew, they lived in a railway town not far from Manchester, and stalls in the local market sold remnants from the cotton mills of Lancashire. As far as Mum can recall, remnants were off-ration. This seems quite likely; second-hand clothing was not rationed because it would be too complicated to administer, and I can imagine remnants being the same.

Discussing all of this with Mum inspired me to see if I could make a dress which met all the restrictions of CC41 clothing. First of all, I had to find out what the regulations were. This was easier said than done; I could find lots of snippets, but not the full set. Eventually I found a blog (update - sadly now defunct) which not only listed all the regulations direct from the relevant Act of Parliament but also detailed the writer’s attempt to clothe herself for 12 months on the equivalent of a year’s coupons.

The starting point for my dress was this photograph of Mum and her friends J, M and K.

Mum (second from left, with her hair in a victory roll) and friends

In case you were wondering, yes Mum’s and M’s dresses are made out of the same fabric. These are their school dresses. Shortages meant that school uniform policies had to be relaxed during the war, and for the older girls the only restriction was that they should wear a green dress. So when some green material appeared in a local shop, they both quickly bought some.

Mum’s dress reminded me of this one, in the Snibston Museum Fashion Gallery (update - the museum is now closed).

1942 cotton dress

This is a manufactured dress, but in terms of collar shape and only buttoning down to waist seam the design is similar to Mum's dress. I assumed that there is also a side opening, like Vogue 8686.

To draft the pattern I started with basic bodice block with a dart down to waist (you can just make out the dart on the right side of the Snibston dress). I raised the shoulder seam slightly to accommodate shoulder pads. I then had to draft a grown-on collar. Fortunately my go-to pattern drafting book, Hilary Campbell’s Designing Patterns had the instructions I needed.

Bodice front, with collar added on

Unfortunately getting the shape of the collar at the front was a bit like my approach to parallel parking; I understood the concept perfectly well, but struggled to grasp how it would work in practice! As usual the solution was to make a mock-up. Feeling lazy, I only made one side, photographed it, and manipulated the photograph to get the full effect.

The mock-up. Please ignore the crazy book effect behind!

The skirt was very simple; slightly shaped at the side seams and pleated at the waist, with a pocket in the side without the opening.

The two skirt pieces and the bodice back were cut on the fold, with the fabric only folded to the width needed, not just folded in half. All the other pieces were cut from a single layer of fabric. This took longer to do than a modern cutting layout, but was a far more efficient use of the fabric. I had to piece together two scraps to cut out the second pocket piece, but felt that this would be authentic. I made my own shoulder pads from Vogue 2787, and they turned out far better than the previous set.

I must admit that I cheated a bit and used my overlocker for some of the seams, which a home sewer in the 1940s wouldn’t have been able to do. My excuse is that this dress is for everyday use, so I want it to be robust for laundering.

The completed dress

The eagle-eyed will notice that I cheated a bit taking these photographs as well. The dress is still lacking buttonholes, so to photograph it I sewed the buttons onto the front, and pinned it closed. I’m toying with using pink cotton to attach them properly, so that the only black on the button is the circle.

Collar front

I’m really pleased with the end result, especially the collar - it lies beautifully.

Collar back

So how did I do against the CC41 regulations? Note: in the following table I have only included the regulations which were appropriate to this project.

So, reasonably well. Yay! This is only one dress however. This exercise has increased my respect for the people who designed clothing under these regulations and managed to produce items which were not all drably identical, but attractive and well-designed despite the restrictions. I would happily wear most of the CC41 pieces I have come across.

The small print:
The Challenge: Black and White (although I realise now that it would have been a good entry for the upcoming ‘Politics of Fashion’ challenge, but I’ve got something else planned for that)
Fabric: Cotton
Pattern: My own, drafted from a photograph
Year: 1942-5
Notions: Thread, buttons, press studs (poppers) for side opening, lining fabric and bump to make shoulder pads
How historically accurate is it? The pattern is based on a photograph of a dress of the period, but as detailed above, I used some modern sewing techniques to make it more robust. The fabric colourway is unlikely, but not impossible. 50%?
Hours to complete: As ever, forgot to count
First worn: Not yet
Total cost: Fabric £13.10, buttons £1, everything else from stash, so £14.10