Ettie completed

I have finished my Ettie petticoat. I'm not sure why, but it seemed to take forever. None of this was the fault of the pattern, which was excellent. Leimomi had thought of everything, even including cutting layouts, which seem to be a rarity these days.

Not that I used them. There are pattern pieces for the two ruffles, with each four of piece being cut out. But the pattern also includes the dimensions of finished ruffles in case you want to just mark them out on the fabric. Plus, the pieces can be cut on or across the grain. So my ruffles were made from irregular length pieces cut to leave the minimum of waste, and joined make the total length. As a result, I only used 2.9m rather than the 3.4m requirement on the pattern - all my experience of squeezing dresses out of slightly-too-small remnants paid off!

The leftovers, with 6" ruler for scale

The petticoat is made from a front, back and sides, joined together with French seams. There is a placket opening between the front and the left side, but I swapped this to the right as that is easier to use for a left-hander like me. I couldn't imagine how a placket would work on a French seam, but the step-by-step instructions talk you through it. They even include the size number of snap fastens and hooks & loops to use, which gave me a good excuse to rifle through my box of vintage haberdashery.

Placket with Size 1 snaps, and Size 2 hooks & loops

The dust ruffle is attached first.

Laid out flat

The result seemed a bit long on me (I'm not particularly tall), but I didn't want to take the ruffle off and re-apply it, so instead added a pintuck.

Historically accurate shortening method

Then it was time to attach the outer ruffle. By this time I seemed to be wrangling So Much Fabric. I was very grateful to be sewing on my Singer 66K, with its long arm and large harp space.

A fight to the death with cotton lawn

On the subject of my machine . . . Some of the gathering stitches on the ruffles required a very small seam allowance, which in turn required me to attach the seam marker using the leftmost of the two screw holes. For some reason, this never fastens as tightly as the other one. I rescued some card from the recycling box, cut two small pieces, made holes with my pattern-cutting punch, glued them together and - success!

My high-tech fix

The top edge of the outer ruffle is covered with more lace. There is the option to make this an insertion like on the ruffle, but I just left the fabric behind intact.

The completed ruffle

And here is the end result. The cotton lawn is so fine that the corset flossing and binding are visible underneath but despite that, it's quite heavy. The result of all those ruffles, no doubt.

Side and front views

Even though I used less fabric than the pattern called for, it's still further into the green for the Stashometer.

Looking good (by slightly nefarious means)

I should explain that I have a fair amount of plain cotton of different weights in The Stash. Because so much woven fabric sold as '100% cotton' these days is mysteriously stretchy (well hello, unlisted elastane content), when I do come across plain true cotton fabric in white or cream, I tend to buy some while I can, and don't count it as a stash addition (#sorrynotsorry).

The remainder of this particular length is going to be made into a corset cover. But first, I'm going to make a new corset. My 1911 corset is greatly improved by my recent alterations, but there's no denying that the lacing gap is far too wide. I don't feel I’ve done very well with corset-making so far, so I'm not excited to get started, but needs must. At least I'm using another Scroop pattern to make it, so I'm giving myself every chance of success.

Next up (image © Scroop Patterns)

Finally, the petticoat is my entry for another Historical Sew Monthly 2026 challenge, and here are the details.

The small print:
The Challenge: December, Bottoms
What the item is: Mid-teens era petticoat
How it fits the challenge: It covers my bottom half
Material: Cotton lawn
Pattern: Ettie petticoat from Scroop Patterns, view C
Year: 1915-1917
Notions: Cotton insertion and hem lace, snap fastens, hooks & loops, elastic
How historically accurate is it? The pattern is based on a 1917 sewing pattern and the materials are authentic for the period
Hours to complete: Too many to admit to, I’m a very slow sewist
First worn: Just for photos
Total cost: £34

Insertion exhaustion

Or 'So many hours, for so little result'.

The culprits

I'm on to the next item of my 1915 ensemble, the petticoat. For this I'm using the Ettie Petticoat pattern from Scroop Patterns. It comes with four different views, covering your petticoat needs from 1890 to 1920.

Image © Scroop Patterns

All the petticoats have lace at the hem as well as insertion lace on the ruffle. I chose view C as best for the skirt that I will, eventually, make. As well as the outer ruffle, there is a narrower dust ruffle underneath, also hemmed with lace.

When it came to buying lace, the choice seemed to be between cotton but a bit clunky, or finer but synthetic. I went for the former. It is similar to Torchon lace, but in a very thick thread. The insertion lace was 2.5cm/1" wide but, because it is cotton, I decided to wash it first, just in case. Sure enough, it shrank a little. Fortunately I'd bought extra, so I thought no more of it.

I made up the ruffles, using lapped seams for a flatter finish rather than the recommended French seams. Then I applied the lace, following the extensive instructions given in the pattern.

The hem lace is applied first. It should have been stitched along the top edge, but I decided to do the stitching further down so that the stitching for the hem was covered by the lace.

Pinning on the lace

The pattern matching gods decided to smile on me, and the joins on both ruffles were perfect.

Ta dah!

Sewing the narrow hems was very fiddly, but on the right side, the machine stitching disappears into the lace as I had hoped.

The stitching is barely visible

The wrong sides were a little less successful, even though I sewed wrong side up. In several places I missed the hem, and had to catch it in place by hand.

Fine at the far right, off everywhere else

Anyway, on to the insertion lace. This I did sew right on the edge.

Very precise stitching was needed

I applied both bands before doing anything else.

All sewn on

Then it was time to, very carefully, cut the fabric behind the lace. The bold pattern made it easy to find the centre line.

I held it up to the light to cut it

The cut edges are pressed back, trimmed to 9mm/⅜" either side, the raw edges folded under and then stitched in yet more narrow hems. The pattern instructions warn that this is difficult to do with lace narrower than 2cm/¾", and this was the point where the lace shrinkage really became a problem - especially trimming off the tiny amount of excess fabric.

10 metres of doing this was very tedious

As is obvious from the picture above, I trimmed, pressed and hemmed one edge before starting on the other. I also only cut the centre of the second band once I had completed the first.

Eventually it was all done.

Dust ruffle and outer ruffle

I've written on here before that I am a slow worker, but this was absurd. It took me over 12 hours just to apply all the lace. Admittedly, I did things like carefully hand sew the lace joins, and I got a little faster and more accurate with practice - I was very grateful to be sewing on my treadle machine, where I can control the speed easily. I must admit I found it a real grind, and sewing white lace onto white cotton with white thread on looong seams (I used an entire bobbin of thread overall) was very tiring.

It's given me a whole new level of respect for the women who did this sort of work for a (probably very meagre) living. Dover Publications' republication of the 1909 National Cloak and Suit Co. catalogue contains several pages of petticoats. A few just have flounces, but pintucks and/or insertions feature heavily.

5002 is the plainest, and cheapest

5006, with its rows of Torchon insertion, is similar to my petticoat. All for just 98 cents.

Four rows of insertion lace would have finished me off

Obviously 98 cents in 1909 bought a lot more than it would now, but I can't imagine that the woman making this petticoat earned a great deal for all that work. It makes me very glad that I am making my petticoat purely for myself and am not on piecework - I would starve!

First challenge completed

Success! I've completed my first Historical Sew Monthly 2026 challenge and the first item of my 1915 ensemble. The challenges can be completed in any order, so originally this was going to be for the March challenge, Comfort at Home. This is to "Make something to wear around the (historical) home or that would be generally only seen within the household", and underwear definitely fits that bill. But once it was done I had a change of plan and instead went for the January challenge, Joy for January. Part of the description of this challenge is "Create an item that epitomises the joy you find in historical costuming", and it really has been a joy to pick up historical costuming again; I hadn't realised how much I missed it.

Challenge completed (Note: the proportions are deceptive!)

Admittedly, it was hardly a difficult challenge. It's a simple make, only two pieces, and between Lauren's extra notes for the pattern and The Dreamstress' blog post I had a lot of hand holding.

The back has a central pleat, to add extra width for sitting down.

Back pleat from the right side

If this had been a skirt vent, I would have just overcast the raw edge at the top of the pleat. But as it's going to be worn next to the body, I covered the edge with some scrap cotton tape to make it neater and more hard-wearing. I also flat felled the shoulder and side seams.

Back pleat from the wrong side, with tape edging

I used beading lace round the neckline, attached by the Dreamstress' method of turning the raw edge of the garment to the outside, and enclosing it in two rows of stitching.

The trimmed neckine

I also followed her approach of reinforcing the flap with a second layer of fabric, to provide more stability for the buttonholes.

Up to this point, I had done all the sewing on my 1930s treadle machine. But then circumstances dictated that I had to be away from home for a while, with no access to a sewing machine but plenty of time on my hands. So the rest of the sewing was done by hand. Thanks for the suggestion, Juliana!

The armholes were trimmed with lace. Again this was sewn over the raw edge of the fabric, but this time folded to the inside.

The lace is sewn to the inside of the armhole

The pattern has markings for where the buttons/buttonholes should go on the flap - either option is historically accurate. But to me, this seemed a long way down the flap. So instead I sewed them closer to the edge.

This looked like annoyance waiting to happen

I have some kind of blind spot about buttonhole stitch. No matter how often I do it, I can never remember how it differs from blanket stitch. Normally I refer to my trusty copy of Vogue Sewing, but this time I didn’t have it to hand. I did, however, have a dim memory of having photographed the relevant section on my phone ages ago 'just in case'. And sure enough, there it was!

When a plan comes together

Finally, my wash buttons were a little grimy from years spent in a button tin, but I scrubbed them with soap and an old toothbrush, and this greatly improved matters. So here is the finished article.

It looks absurd, but it's really comfortable

The ribbon is synthetic and too stiff to really tie properly - a replacement has been ordered. But that's the only issue I have.

I thought that the low flap might feel weird, but I didn't really notice it once I was wearing the combinations. If fact if, like me, you have the misfortune to remember 1980s bodysuits (iykyk), something with fastens you can both see and reach easily is an absolute boon!

It's also very loose-fitting

I tried putting my 1911 corset on over the top, and the combination (no pun intended) worked really well.

But fits under my corset very well

There is still an issue with the corset, but thanks to The Dreamstress' Fortnight in 1916 posts I've finally worked out what it is. And the fix will fulfil another Historical Sew Monthly Challenge.

In the meantime, here are the details for this challenge.

The small print:
The Challenge: 1, January, Joy for January
What the item is: Combination underwear
How it fits the challenge: After a long break, it's a joy to be picking up historical costuming again
Material: White cotton
Pattern: Wearing History Circa 1917 Combination Underwear & Chemise
Year: Around 1917
Notions: Cotton lace for armhole trim, beading lace and ribbon for neckline trim, vintage wash buttons for fasten
How historically accurate is it?: The pattern, fabric and most of the notions are correct for the period. The ribbon is synthetic, but will be replaced as it is too stiff
Hours to complete: Around 12. It's not a complicated pattern, but I hand sewed a lot of it as I was away from home, and my hand sewing is very slow
First worn: Just for photographs
Total cost: All the materials were in my stash, so this is an estimate based on current prices - fabric £14, trims £3.25, so £17.25 total

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.

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