The Ottoman costume finally gets an outing!

As promised some weeks ago, a photograph from my recent day out with Ya Raqs at the Formby Viking Medieval Market. You can read all about the day here.

With Myriam and Phoenece in the Ya Raqs tent

The costume has been packed away for some time, and I've never had the opportunity to wear it for a full day's event. The Absurdly Large Trousers (which somehow are barely visible here) need a fasten at the ankle cuffs to stop then from slipping over my feet, but apart from that the whole thing was very comfortable.

I'm thrilled by just how much my costume matches the source images I used for inspiration; the fastenings are too ornate really, but the overall shape is pretty good.

Turkish dancers, image possibly from the Bodleian Library

Dancer, c16th, image possibly from the Bodleian

Thanks to Kebi for the photograph.

Ottoman costume complete!

Woohoo! I have finally finished my 15th/16th century Ottoman costume.

Once I had completed the entari, all that was really left was the sash or kusak. Judging from the illustrations I found, this should be wider than a modern belt, but not nearly as wide as a nineteenth century hip sash. It should also be very long. I made mine out of the same material as the tarbus (hat), and 2.4m / 94½" long by 15cm / 6" wide.

The completed kusak

One description I read somewhere (and stupidly I forgot to note the source) stated that the kusak ends were often richly decorated. So, I finished mine off with gold braid, red and gold rocaille beads, and longer blue beads to pick up on the blue flowers just visible in the fabric.

Close-up of the end decoration

This also had the advantage of adding a bit of weight to the sash ends, so that it hangs slightly better.

The veil was simply the dupatta of the shalwar kameez set, with the cheap modern trim removed, and the ends straightened and hemmed. I attached it to the tarbus with medieval brass pins from Quartermasterie. I had expected these to snag the sheer fabric of the veil, but they are so beautifully sharp that they slipped through it perfectly.

The hat and trousers make the costume as a whole impossible to display on Nancy so there was nothing for it but to model it myself.

The completed costume

The complete costume is incredibly comfortable to wear; probably the most comfortable costume I have. The frankly absurd amount of fabric in the shalwar (trousers) makes them very easy to sit down in, and the flared shape of the gomlek (the white blouse) means that it hangs beautifully. Unfortunately it is traditionally made from sheer fabric and mine is made from a very thin muslin, so no pictures of that and the shalwar, however good they look together!

Sitting pretty (and comfortably)

As I explained in an earlier post, the costume that I ended up making is nothing like the costume I originally intended to make, so most of the materials I started off with are still in my stash. I was toying with the idea of making some sort of early twentieth century 'Arabian Nights' fancy dress costume from them, but then I came across this.

Suit, Poiret, 1913 - looks oddly familiar!

But that is another project for another time!

Blue

I did actually finish my entari last night, in February, so on time for the challenge (honest!), but it was a bit late to start posting about it. So here it is now.

The completed entari

Entaris seem to have often been made from linen or silk, with a cotton lining, and a narrow contrast facing of silk. The facing is clearly visible in this illustration.

Dancer, c16th, possibly from the Bodleian

My entari is made from a linen/rayon mix, with a cotton lining, there is definitely no silk involved! I did include a contast facing though, made from the trouser fabric of a shalwar kameez set.

Showing the lining and contrast facing

The facing has accounted for most of this week's sewing. The sensible thing would have been to sew it onto the lining, then machine sew lining and outer layer together, then turn the garment right side out and understitch round the edges as necessary. However for reasons which might have been sensible when I did it in the summer, I had sewn the facing strips onto entari itself, and so had to slide the lining underneath the facing, turn the facing edge under, and slip stitch all the way round the facings. This is why it took all week. The facing definitely has the effect of stiffening the lower edge of the entari, making it hang better.

I had read somewhere (and I really must improve how I record things which I find) that the facings around the shaped sleeve edges were not shaped, but had a straight edge, so that is what I did.

Facing shaped around neckline but not around sleeve edge

The small print:
The Challenge: Colour challenge - Blue
Fabric: Linen/rayon mix for outer layer, cotton for lining, synthetic of unknown composition for the facing
Pattern: Found here. Unfortunately I've not been able to find the original source, so if anyone knows it, please let me know and I'll update the details
Year: sixteenth century
Notions: Soutache, narrow gold braid and commercially-made motifs for trim
How historically accurate is it? The pattern and some of the fabrics are accurate, as is the style of fastening. The fastening themselves are too elaborate however, so I'd say 50-60%
Hours to complete: Lots
First worn: Not yet
Total cost: Linen/rayon £29.61, cotton lining £7.79, facing fabric £5, motifs £2.40, soutache and braid from stash, so £44.80in total

Ottoman costume - progress of a sort

An early post this week, as I won't have the opportunity to post it on Sunday.

Not for the first time while making this costume, I found myself looking at something laid out on the table and thinking, "My, that's an 'interesting' shape". The latest candidate is the cotton lining for my entari/caftan, which is also doubling as a toile for the outer layer.

!!!?

Ottoman caftans are described as being 'bell-shaped', unlike Persian caftans, which have smoother lines. This example shows the shape particularly well. (Apologies that I don't have any more details for this image).

15th century Ottoman caftan

Even though I need some extra width to accommodate the gathered bulk of the excessively wide trousers, this is taking things a bit far. The illustration that comes with the pattern seems to suggest that some sort of pleating occurs, so I think I'll experiment with that.

Looks like pleats to me (she says, hopefully)

While I pondered what exactly to do with my big curvy side pieces, I thought I'd get on with the hat. I have an embroidered hat of Mr Tulip's which is exactly the right dimensions, so I worked from that.

Hat inspiration

As I no longer need all of the patterned fabric of the shalwar kameez suit set for a wide sash, I used some of it to make the hat. A pillbox hat should be perfectly simple to make; a strip of fabric sewn round a circle of fabric, right? I did just that, with some interfacing sewn in to stiffen it. Unfortunately when I tried the first attempt on, it looked as though the band narrowed from the top down. The effect was a brimless version of this hat, not at all the look I was after!

The Arnolfini Wedding by Jan van Eyck

When I looked at Mr Tulip's hat properly, it was obvious that there was a slight gather where the band meets the top. I did this to my hat, and it looked much better.

To trim the hat I dug out some red and gold braid which had been lurking in my stash for years. It was surprisingly heavy. When I inspected it, I discovered that the red and gold 'cords' which are unravelling in the botton left of the photograph are actually fine wire round tightly round a thick cotton core. Adding a bit of weight to the hat is no bad thing, as it is currently very light and flimsy.

Braid to trim the hat

The duppata which came with the shalwar kameez will be pinned onto the hat. The last time I tried using a dupatta as a veil for dancing, I discovered that although it looked very light, it actually had the floaty properties of sheet lead - reasonable really, as the whole point of a dupatta is that you don't want it to blow away! So, I can be reasonably sure that my headgear isn't going to go anywhere.

The gomlek (shift) is a very simple T-shaped tunic with underarm and side gussets. It should be slightly longer, but making it this length allowed me to get both the body and sleeve parts cut out with a selvedge at the hem. The construction is by machine, but all the seams are finished by hand, as I find that this gives a softer result. The neck opening is hand-finished as well. I hadn't sewn the buttons on when this photograph was taken.

Almost-completed gomlek

The medieval fair all this is being made for is a weekend event. I hate wearing the same shift two days running, so I've had to make two of them. That's a lot of hand-finishing.

So now back to the coat and its huge pleats.

All change

(Or, why the costume I’m actually making is very different from the costume which I thought I was going to make.)

Back in May it all seemed so simple. I was going to make a new costume for the Medieval Fair I would be attending with Ya Raqs in the summer. I pretty much knew what I was going to make and shopped accordingly: big harem pants, a white cotton blouse with long sleeves split from the elbow, a lavishly trimmed coat which fitted under the bust and also had long split sleeves, and a wide sash.

I had these sort of images in mind, even though they date from a far later period. Somehow I blithely assumed that because it was 'traditional' dress it would have remained unchanged for centuries!

Ghaziya, c. 1839

Ghawazee dancers by Emile Prisse d’Avennes, 1848

Well unsurprisingly, that’s not quite how it’s turning out.

The first thing to go was the wide trim. This is made from a 5cm / 2” wide braid with alternating circular and flower motifs, woven in blue and red, and then heavily decorated with sequins, beads and sew-on stones. It’s pretty, and it prompted the colour scheme of the entire costume, but in the cold light of day, even with no research whatsoever I could tell that it’s not remotely appropriate. So into the stash it goes.

Modern (too modern) braid, back and front

Then I went online and did some research on Persian and Turkish costume for the period. It started promisingly when I found this. The sleeves and neckline were different, but I could live with that.

Turkish costume

However, even though the image was described as "15th century Turkish women’s costume", it was obviously not a contemporary 15th century image. So rather than just dive straight in, it was back to the research.

As I explained last Sunday, big puffy super-bloomers turned out to be a later element of Turkish costume. As it transpired, so were split sleeves, the neckline cut under the bust, and wide sashes. Instead the entari, the garment worn over the shirt, had a round  or 'V' neckline and usually short, wide sleeves with a curved edge for the bend in the arm. It was often fastened with frogging. The belt was long, but narrow.

This site, which was the source of my shalwar pattern, has lots of useful information information on Ottoman costume. Especially helpful for me are several images depicting dancers.

I love the fact that the bottom two dancers appear to be doing something cheeky/coy with their face veils, a move which is still used (with varying degrees of cheesiness) today!

Having decided on the basic design, it was on to fabric choices. The gomlek, the long shift or undershirt, came to below the knees and was always made of a very sheer fabric. I'm going to use a fine muslin.

The original plan for the outer layer was to use the same fabric as I used for the trousers, but in a different colour, and lined with a third colour. I soon realized that it's far too soft and drapey to hang properly, or to support the weight of the decoration, so I planned to interline it with cotton. However, the more research I did and the more I thought about it, it seemed silly to put so much work into something which would be so inherently wrong. Back to the fabric shop I went. I wanted to keep it plain, and found a linen/rayon mix in a suitable colour. Yes it should really be pure linen, but I will be sitting on floor cushions for two days, and a linen entari would look as though I'd slept in it after an hour or so. The lining fabric also ended up being replaced, with cotton. The very boring photo below shows the original coat and lining fabrics at the top, and their replacements below. Shame, because I really liked the colour of the original coat fabric. Still, I'm sure I'll find a use for it.

Well, I did say it was boring!

The frogging is going to be more ornate than is entirely appropriate, but there are some things which I can't quite give up! It started off with just the maroon and gold cords and the leaf motifs, but then I remembered that I had some dark red soutache which had migrated from my friend Kebi's mother-in-law's stash to mine, and it's a perfect match.

Frogging materials

Now all I need is for the Time Fairy to pop round with a few extra days!

Tunisian costume

Following on from my previous reference to the generally unflattering look of costumes for traditional Middle Eastern and North African dance I give you - my completed Tunisian costume.

Keen followers of the Historical Sew Fortnightly might remember that I made most of this costume for the Squares, Rectangles and Triangles challenge last year, and that I wasn't entirely happy with the end result. Since then I've fixed the qamisa (blouse) by inserting gussets in the sides, and worked out how to wear the melia (wrap) properly. In the last couple of weeks I finally made the qalsoun (pantaloons) and the yellek (waistcoat) into which the edges of the melia are tucked. Neither are visible when the costume is worn, but the qalsoun were just visible in the back view picture of the super-wide Ottoman trousers in the previous post.

All of this activity was necessary (there's nothing like a deadline to spur me into action!) because I needed a costume to wear at a recent event with Ya Raqs. As you can see, it's not the most form-fitting clothing. It is really comfortable to wear though, and stays in place far better than I had expected.

Me in Tunisian costume, with Tameri in a ghawazee coat which I also made

Despite the clear lack of drop-dead elegance, I'm really pleased with the end result. So much so that not only am I actually happy to publish pictures of me wearing it, I've even used one to finally create a profile picture! Thanks to Dave of DFlockton Photography for allowing me to use his pictures.

Photo by DFlockton Photography

Photo by DFlockton Photography

Under $10

The current Historical Sew Fortnightly challenge is very straightforward; make something for under $10. You can see the other entries for this challenge here. Straightforward challenge, yes. Simple to achieve, no. The pound is currently quite strong against the dollar, so this gives me just £5.80 to play with. (To put this into context for non-UK readers, The Times newspaper currently costs £1.20 on a weekday, and £1.50 on Saturdays.)

Fortunately, on my recent trip to Manchester I bought some fabric at £1 per metre. This is to make a new costume for a medieval fair I’m attending with Ya Raqs, and as it’s now only a couple of weeks away, it’s time to get sewing.

I’m going to make an Ottoman costume, and for this challenge I decided to make the trousers. Easy. Everyone knows that that Turkish trousers are huge, full, pouffy things, right? Like this.

Ghawazee dancers, David Roberts, 1842

Or this.

Dancing girl, Cairo, 1860-1890

Erm, wrong. Every source I consulted in my research stated that this was wrong, sometimes quite firmly. It turns out that looking as though you have a small zeppelin attached to each leg is a late 17th century costume development. Earlier trousers were tight-fitting around the ankle. To make my trousers I used this pattern (scroll down to Salwar and click on the link).

At this point I hadn’t decided exactly what period I was planning to work to, but the accompanying notes state that for 14th century pants the full width of the fabric (115cm / 45") should be used, but for the 15th and 16th centuries the width should be approximately 150% of your thigh measurement. This tipped me towards the latter.

The pants are also incredibly long; the measurement used is waist to floor, but taken while bending forward to touch your toes. Presumably if you are going to be sitting on floor cushions a lot, the extra ease makes a lot of sense!

So, I cut out the two rectangles of fabric, and folded them in half. This was where I began to get worried. I very rarely wear trousers except for going walking, and have never made a pair, but my first thought was that this seemed like quite a lot of fabric. So, I fetched a pair of trousers for comparison.

Hmm, these are going to be big

The next stage is to cut off a triangle of fabric to shape the leg, and then turn this triangle over and attach it to the leg as a gusset.

Leg and gusset pieces - it's not looking any better

My totally non-period-appropriate fabric is loosely woven and frays a lot, so I used equally non-period-appropriate machine-sewn French seams for the construction. Having attached the gusset pieces, the leg seam is sewn, and then the two legs sewn together.

A completed leg - still no better

The legs have a narrow hem, and are folded over at the top to make a waistband casing. I sewed both of these by hand, and can confirm that it is a very long casing indeed.

The completed trousers go right round me. With an overlap. Nice.

So here we have the finished article. And what an article it is.

Eek!

Over the years I’ve got used to most of my dance costumes being, ahem, less than flattering. It’s an occupational hazard of performing traditional, folkloric, Middle Eastern dance as opposed to modern cabaret-style belly dance. After all, it is the dance of a culture where modesty in dress is important and, contrary to many western depictions, this extended to dancers' costumes.

Ouled Naïl woman by Rudolf Lehnert, 1904, from Wikimedia Commons

These pants however are a whole new level of unflattering.

Nope, they're no better from the front

Gathered up they look slightly better

I’ve cropped the photos so that you can’t see the expression on my face. It is less than ecstatic. Now I understand why so many layers are worn over the top of the trousers; it’s to hide the awful evidence!

The small print:
The Challenge: under $10
Fabric: Man made, possibly viscose
Pattern: Rashid's Persian Salwar pattern
Year: 15th to 16th century
Notions: thread
How historically accurate is it? The pattern is accurate, fabric and construction method are not remotely so. 30%?
Hours to complete: About 6
First worn: Just now, to take photographs
Total cost: Thread from stash, fabric £3. (Just as well really. If they had cost any more, I would have considered myself robbed!)

Mr Tulip strikes a pose

I finally persuaded Mr Tulip to let me take a photograph of him in his Moroccan djellaba, and here he is, echoing the photograph of him posing in Abdullah's original, all those years ago.

Mr Tulip, in djellaba and shesh

It's my dance class Christmas party this week, and I'm performing a piece I choreographed some years ago as homework, but have never actually danced for the class. It's also an excuse to wear my Golden Era costume again, so I needed to make sure that it still fits. Then, when I was looking at a YouTube clip of Samia Gamal dancing with Farid el Atrache, I noticed that he was wearing a striped galabeya, and had An Idea. A very silly idea indeed, involving clothing from a completely different country, but one I just had to try out.

So here is. Exhibit A: a still from the film clip. Unfortunately I don't know what the film is called (anyone out there who can read Arabic?). And apologies for the poor picture quality.

Farid el Atrache and Samia Gamal

The film details, taken from YouTube

Exhibit B: Mr Tulip and me, in a very vague approximation of the pose!

Blue Velvet

I've been away this weekend, on a residential Middle Eastern dance course with friends. As with most of these events, there was a party on the Saturday night, so of course I needed a new dress.

This was the perfect excuse to make something from a fabulous blue and gold devoré velvet which I bought last year from the fabric department of Bombay Stores in Bradford. Well worth a visit if you are ever in the area, but be prepared to be there for some time; there are lots of lovely things to drool over.

The burnt-out areas on this fabric are quite large, which makes it fairly see-through. Apologies for the very blurred photograph, but it does give an idea of just how sheer the material is.

Wall, curtain and window clearly visible through the fabric

The dress would definitely need a lining, but what colour would be best? Dark or light?

To find out, I draped one side of my dress form with a dark blue silky fabric from my stash. I didn't have any suitable yellow/gold fabric, so I improvised with some cream coloured lining with yellow chiffon over it.

Ready for testing

Then I draped the fabric over the top.

From a distance, there wasn't much difference. Close up, the lighter side showed up the blue velvet swirls more clearly, but the gold threads running through the backing fabric were lost. They showed up more clearly over the darker side.

I decided I preferred the effect of the dark lining. (This also had the advantage of using up more stash fabric!)

The main part of the dress is just a simple shift shape, with side slits, bust darts and some shaping in the side seams. I made this part up first in the lining fabric, which also acted as a test piece for making the dress itself. The sleeves were drafted with a flatter than usual sleeve head to allow more arm movement: something I often do for Middle Eastern dance clothes, especially if they are made from non-stretch fabric. I also moved the sleeve seam from underarm to the front, to allow the lower part of the sleeve to fall free in a similar style to this illustration.

Ghawazee dancers, David Roberts, 1842

I didn't have enough fabric to match the front and back pieces at the side seams, but I did manage to cut the pieces out so that the pattern is symmetrical. Then I made up the dress the same way as the the lining, and set the sleeves in. The lining was then attached to the dress around the neck and along the side slits.

As I mentioned in my previous post, I only started drafting the pattern for the dress on Monday evening, and late Monday evening at that. As a result, by the time we set off on Friday morning there was still some work to do.

The course was held at Haileybury School in Hertfordshire, and much of the hand sewing to finish the dress was done in the commonroom in the breaks between workshops (where the photograph below was taken). I even found time to make a matching hairband from a remnant to complete the outfit.

The finished dress