Monday 15 January 2018

The American Duchess Guide to 18th Century Dressmaking | A review


I took quite a lot of time to think about how I felt about this book. Not because it isn't great, but because the authors, Lauren Stowell and Abby Cox, had a very clear role for this book to play in costumers libraries, and I was unsure of how this book would be received to those people who may not have the library the authors have. Until very recently, my only access to the works referred to in the Guide were from my university's library and snippets online, so I feared that these resources may be out of reach for many beginner costumes.

But at the heart of every review is the question "would I recommend this book?" and I have to say a very strong and enthusiastic YES  despite my aforementioned hesitation; however, my recommendation comes with a heavy caveat. To make the most out of this book I recommend having at least one other 18th-century book with grid patterns (either Janet Arnold or Norah Waugh) or be working from/ have access to existing patterns. The authors have said in many places that this is not a stand-alone book and it fits into existing literature, and as such one would not be able to make a gown with only this book.  Though I do think that this makes the book less accessible to beginners,  I think the authors accomplish what they set out to do with aplomb.

It is the subtitle of this book really captures what I think the authors succeeded most at and where the reader will learn the most: How to Hand Sew Georgian Gowns and Wear Them with Style. The detailed hand sewing instructions are wonderful and clear, as are the instructions on different stitches, and the patterns and styling notes for accessories make this book well worth the price of purchase. The accessories and styling notes alone make this book worth every penny.  I also really enjoyed that the authors encouraged the reader to get into the mindset of a mantuamaker, saving fabric where possible and not being to hung up on things that cannot be seen in the finished garment. They encourage the reader to "sew fearlessly," which I think is a wonderful mantra.

The book itself is gorgeous and seemingly well made. The typography and layout throughout are nice a clean. The pages are a good weight with a handsome semi-gloss, and I love that the book is bound free from the spine so that it can be opened flat without breaking the paper spine, or having the pages trying to close on you.
Left: 'Portrait of a Lady' by Francis Cotes, 1768.  Photo © Tate. CC-BY-NC-ND 3.0 Right: Abbey of American Dutchess, one of the authors, in her dress inspired by the portait on the left. Photo by American Duchess and taken from the blog. 
This is not to say that the book is flawless, there are some minor editing errors, and misnumbered instructions and pictures, but it does not hugely detract from the usefulness or enjoyment of the book. There are a few places where I longed for more information (a section on laces for example) but I think that I wanted more from the authors is a sign of how accessible and useful I found their writing rather than a flaw in and of itself. The authors did not leave me feeling as though I was missing a large amount of information, but only craving more detail and more of their down to earth approach to dressmaking.

Throughout the book I felt as though Lauren and Abby were the reader's cheerleaders, reassuring us that mistakes can be fixed and sewing is always a process. This encouragement and permission to make mistakes was a welcome tone for a book which simultaneously calls for rigorous research and strives for historical accuracy down to every stitch. A very careful balance which I think the authors achieved marvellously.

One of the book's less obvious strengths is not in the book at all, but the authors' engagement with the community online. Already we have received 2 official addendums to the book and Lauren and Abby have been easily accessible for questions and advice on their facebook page and blog. For correction on the cap pattern visit this blog post. For a full grided pattern of the Italian gown visit this blog post. And finally, for a blog post all about stays, check this out!

Overall this book would be an excellent addition to a budding or established library but does not stand alone.

Resources




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Wednesday 3 January 2018

18th Century Fabric Dying | Georgian January Challenge


Over of Instagram, the lovely Dames a La Mode is hosting her third annual Georgian January Instagram challenge, and I thought that I would also use the challenge to learn a bit more about the 18th century. So I am going to try to write a blog post every week(ish) inspired by her prompts. To kick things off she gave us 9 whole days of colour, so I decided to look into how fabrics were dyed! Lovely soft confectionery colours are a staple of the eighteenth century so it seemed appropriate.

There is a lot of information on this topic, and I am not expert. This is just some neat information I have found and I encourage you to do your own research if you want to really learn how to dye fabric. This is more an exercise in understanding for me, but I am glad to take you along with me.

Dyes were most commonly plant-based dyes (very rarely animal) and these plant-based dyes did a much better job dyeing animal fibres such as wool and silk than linen or cotton. In wool and silk, almost any naturally achievable dye (i.e. not a synthetic dye) was possible. Green was a particularly tricky colour, needing at least two dye baths (twice the work), but extant examples do exist alongside vivid reds, blues, yellows and rich browns. Of course, paler pastel version of all these colours exist as well, and I suspect it was because they were not only fashionable but also easier and cheaper to make. However, some plant-based colours were easier to achieve (not to mention lasted longer) than other. This is why we see a lot of red and blue throughout the century. They were relatively easy and reliable colours to achieve on a variety of fibre types.  To my surpise black is a harder colour to dye taking up to 4 baths to acheive even and rich colour. It seem the richer and darker the colour, the more expensive too!

From Left to Right: Green Silk Round Gown c. 1775 from The Met; Blue Silk Round Gown c.1725-89 from the Met; Red Chints Cotton and Linen Gown c. 1780s from the Rotterdam Museum
Cotton and Linen fabric were much more limited in their colour retention (linen really only holding red and browns) but of the two, cotton was much easier and the fabric of choice for the typical chintzes/block prints of the century. In my research, I stumbled on a wonderful video by The Met of The Art of Making Chintz which I highly recommend for those interested in the process, but suffice it to say,  it was a long and detailed process. Printed cottons are, for me, one of the hardest fabrics to find in our modern stores and there are a lot of "don'ts" that float around the costuming community. For instance, I have heard that it was impossible to have green in prints, but I have found that is not true. Green can be seen in chintz and prints throughout the 18th century but was a blue-based (not vivid yellow-based green) which muted and darkened the colour.  Yellows could be painted on after blue dye baths to achieve different greens and oranges but this would have likely increased the cost of the fabric due to the extra labour and care taken. If you are looking to train you "eye for fabric" check out the Marquise Blog and Demode. They have some great examples of printed and patterned fabrics which will help you know what to look for on your next trip to the fabric store.



There is so much more information out there but since doing a bit of reading I am feeling so much more confident about my ability to spot period appropriate fabric (looking at you bedspread from IKEA).

Resources

18th Century Note Book - Eighteenth-century dying recipes 
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