Unsung Sewing Patterns

McCall 1090- Ladies' and Misses' Victory Apron

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Mon, 28 May 2012 07:00:00 +0000

1943.

So that you don't have to find your reading glasses, here is the verse on the envelope front:

Tie this apron round your waist
And join the Victory war-on-waste,
Plan your meals for zest and vim
And don't forget Ye Vitamine!
Remember that the right nutrition
Is Uncle Sam's best ammunition!

I'm guessing that this was written by that nice Mr. Murple up in McCall's Accounting department - who knew he was so talented.

This is a lovely apron pattern - easy enough to be made by girls in home ec. classes as well as by ladies' groups. Imagine refreshments tables at dances with all the attendants in their victory aprons worn over white dresses. The rick-rack braid stars are very clever.

In my family we have a cookbook which we refer to as the Women's Victory Cookbook. The correct name is the Victory Binding of the American Woman's Cookbook, an enormously popular cookbook of the mid-twentieth century. The Victory binding edition provides a small appendix on wartime cookery, which includes such contemporary-sounding advice as eating more fish and whole grains and retaining the vitamins in vegetables by not boiling them to death.

Happy Memorial Day, everybody.

Butterick 2209 - The American Red Cross Volunteer Special Service Outdoor Uniform

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Mon, 21 May 2012 07:00:00 +0000

"1/14/43" is written on the flap of the envelope of this one.

Women's Red Cross uniforms had been re-designed around 1941 by Elizabeth Hawes to be more contemporary looking. "Red Cross Lassies Get Snappy New Uniforms," burbled the St. Petersburg Times on May 4, 1941. Indeed, without the epaulettes (and the cap) this is a pretty standard women's suit of the time.

Wool gabardine in blue-gray would have been used for View A, the winter uniform. View B, the summer uniform, would have been made up in a rayon-mohair mix for summer weight or seersucker for tropical weight.

By April 1942, about 20,000 women wore some type of Red Cross uniform. The Red Cross had to walk a fine line between complying with the overall need to economize in every possible way and to assure that its workers were properly recognized. The New York Times reported on April 3, 1942 that the bellows pocket with flap that had previously been used on jackets was being dropped in favor of pockets using less material. In the same article, Mrs. Dwight Davis, the Red Cross's national director of volunteer special services stated that uniforms should be reserved for women who spent the bulk of their time performing Red Cross-related activities - particularly if this work took them out in public: women working in chapter work rooms were not to wear uniforms.

Even though uniforms could be purchased at department stores, making or having a uniform made might have been a good option for a woman who required special care in fitting. This uniform pattern was available in bust sizes from 30" to 46" - a much wider range than that of patterns for civilian clothes.

While the envelope for this pattern is rough around the edges, this unprinted pattern does not appear to have been used, possibly because there was less demand for the generous size 46.

The American Red Cross was founded on May 21st, 1881.

May Manton 6599 - Boy's Base Ball Suit

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sun, 06 May 2012 00:32:00 +0000

About 1910.

Note the padded pants, a feature that seems to have originated in the 1880s and disappeared around the first World War, as far as I can tell from looking at high school team photos of the period. (1)

The pull-over shirt is a pretty standard outing shirt design, with three sleeve options: long, short, and convertible. (We've seen these convertible sleeves before, with Pictorial Review 5969)

Consider the amount of work involved in making this uniform: colored facings are sewn to the shirt; button holes must be worked (by hand) for the convertible sleeves, the shirt, and the fly front of the pants; the pants must have padding sewn into them; the cap is lined.

And because I know you'll ask, here is what the cap pieces look like.

The three perforated crosses in the brim indicate where it's placed on the fold of the material. It's interesting to see that the cap sections are shorter toward the fronts, which will give the cap a jaunty set.

"B C", I assume, very cleverly stands for "Ball Club," but wouldn't it have been fun if the illustrator had had the imagination to use "M M?"

(1) See the history of baseball uniform pants on the web site for the Baseball Hall of Fame.

McCall - Clothes to Fit the Little Lady Doll

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sun, 15 Apr 2012 19:20:00 +0000

1942

During World War II, even dolls could help the war effort, either by nursing with the Red Cross or by working for the U.S. Office of Civilian Defense as an Air Raid Warden.

It's interesting that the two occupational garments are given top billing in the illustration, while the party dress and school clothes provide hope for the future.

The Office of Civilian Defense was established on May 20th, 1941, a little less than six months before the attack on Pearl Harbor.

The designers were careful to be accurate in rendering the insignia for the armband, though they had to simplify it a little due to the very small size.

Woman's Day 5107 - Down-to-Earth Smock

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sun, 01 Apr 2012 17:43:00 +0000

February 1956.

On its own, the "Down-to-Earth" smock appears to be a nice utilitarian design enlivened with some easy machine embroidery. But in this case we have additional documentary evidence to provide some context.

Tucked into the envelope was the page from Woman's Day magazine featuring this pattern.

Suddenly, we have a sense of materials, color use, wardrobe decisions, and an insight into the designer's vision.

"Black-raspberry" denim is much more interesting that the mid-gray of the black and white pattern envelope, and it's interesting to see the smock worn with "licorice" denim Wranglers (note the white top-stitching) and what are assuredly, the late (and much lamented, at least by me) Bass Weejuns.

Margaret Parker Gary writes that the smock is an "exact copy" of a Haitian field hand's vareuse. Well, maybe. I've been unable to find compelling visual evidence of an embroidered Haitian vareuse, although I've come across several text references to the vareuse in a general sense. In his book Haiti, Her History and Her Detractors, published in 1907, Jacques Nicolas Leger describes the Haitian peasant: "On week days his costume consists of a "vareuse" and trousers made of blue denim..." and a footnote describes the vareuse as "a kind of loose jacket with two pockets in front. " The web site for Haitian Enfance Education reports that for a recent celebration of Agriculture and Labor, parents were asked to dress their sons in the traditional vareuse. The accompanying photographs don't provide enough detail to distinguish the vareuse.

The term vareuse is used today in France for the "traditional" Breton fisherman's smock. (See the armorlux web site for an example.) (1) Less frequently the term is used to describe a military garment somewhat similar to a sailor's middy blouse.

It is the French version of the fisherman's vareuse that Dior adapted for his 1957 "Free Line" collection, according to Daniel Delis Hill, in his book As Seen in Vogue, A Century of American Fashion in Advertising. If this date is correct we have an interesting example of near simultaneous design, with both Gary (in the New World) and Dior (in the Old World) apparently picking up on the vibe of the larger aesthetic of the folk revival of the era.

Margaret Parker Gary started designing for Woman's Day around 1947-48. In a 1952 newspaper interview about her work with Woman's Day, Gary states that "You don't have to be rich to be well-dressed." Gary worked for Lord and Taylor for a number of years before making a big shift in demographics and joining Woman's Day.

While the Down-to-Earth smock is a relatively simple garment, it will take some time to make. In addition to the machine embroidery and lots of top-stitching, tiny tucks fit both the front and the back into yokes, and the sleeves have rather tricky applied facings.

The photographer, Howell Conant, was a well-known fashion photographer of the day, shooting such icons as Audrey Hepburn and Grace Kelly.

This unprinted patterns does not appear to have been used.

(1) An English cousin of this garment is the Norfolk slop.

McCall 3363 - Men's Office Coat

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sat, 04 Feb 2012 15:40:00 +0000

Latter part of the 1920s.

Home sewing patterns for men's coats this early are sufficiently scarce that I almost always bid on them when they show up on eBay. This one was described in the auction listing simply as a men's coat, and the photograph was so fuzzy that I couldn't read the description, so it wasn't until the pattern arrived that I realized I had something even a little more scarce: a pattern for white collar work wear.

It's easy to imagine this coat made up in white poplin or Indian Head for a doctor or dentist. Indeed, we can get a sense of some earlier sartorial problems with dentist's coats, from the book Dental Office and Laboratory, 1906:

"The 'crying need' of the dentist who would be decently dressed in his office is an office coat. This should be of linen, duck, or similar material; washable, and plain even to the absence of pockets. Those now in general use, decorated as many of them are with four pockets, a belt and four sets of frogs make the wearer look like a ring-master just escaped from a dog-circus."

But it turns out that the term "office coat" is much richer.

From Good Housekeeping, 1888, we see that, much like the housewife's apron, the office coat was not meant to be seen on the street:

"...Mr. Willis came up to us, asking Mrs. Wheeler if the letters were ready for the post. On being told they were not, he changed his office coat for another, and went out."

In the magazine Success, Volume 6, p. 313, in an article by Orison Swett Marden, 1903, the office coat appears to be defined only by use rather than any specific attributes. It's a little hard to parse out the rules, but note that a young man is expected to arrive at work dressed in a good suit, and then don an office coat that will take the brunt of attacks by fountain pen or stamp pad ink, dust, abrasion, and splintery desk corners.

"Young men on the floor, and in the office, should dress in plain worsted, serge, or cheviot suits, made up with single our double-breasted jackets, preferable of one material. Extreme cuts, turn-up trousers, and other peculiarities should be avoided, and an office coat, which may be any that is at all presentable, should be worn during the day. It is a rule that all men in the office must wear coats, and those who hope to get along in this world will not defy the conventionalities in order to be comfortable."

From A Dictionary of Men's Wear, by William Henry Baker, 1908, we get a tongue-in-cheek sense of humor, but also an interesting insight into how men abuse their clothing. Remember that at this time alpaca is a relatively inexpensive suiting fabric:

"Office coat, usually an alpaca sack c., unlined, broadly any old c. not fit to be seen on the street, but good enough to wipe pens on."

From a periodical of the National Association of Letter Carriers, 1914, describing postal uniforms in other countries:

"Netherlands...The assistants receive...a linen office coat."

From Arnold Bennett's novel These Twain, published in 1915, in which a man's wife comes to his office to bring him an office coat which she has either made or modified:

"Edwin now tried on the new office-coat with the self-consciousness that none but an odious dandy can avoid on such occasions.

'It seems warmer than it used to be,' he said...

'Yes,' said she. "I've put some wash-leather inside the lining at the back.

'Why?'

'Well, didn't you say you felt the cold from the window...?'"

By the 1920s the office coat has a distinctive social meaning.

Here is the recollection of how a promotion meant a change in dress, from the American Printer and Lithographer, Vol 73, 1921:

"The most proud experience was my first promotion from a 'jour' to a stock-man in the foreman's office, with the privilege of putting off the apron and wearing an office coat!"

But there was bitterness as well. In the story "With the Odds Against Him," in the Yale Literary Magazine in 1921, the office coat is used to illustrate the stalled career of a man no longer young:

"Mr. Audrey had not remembered his impending birthday until just as he was donning a linen office coat a few minutes before nine, and he stopped short in the middle of the operation. Tomorrow he would be forty-six years old!"

Also in 1921, an intriguing insight into the social power of clothing from Munsey's Magazine. This one is worth reading through, because the dress-suit in question actually belongs to the office-coat guy, who lost his self-confidence when he lent his suit. (Spoiler alert: there is a happy ending.)

"He's a dress-suit gentleman and I'm an office-coat guy..."

And a year later in the1922 play "His Majesty Bunker Bean," we find that it is indeed the principle of the thing:

"BUNKER: (Ring, answers) Hello, oh, oh, yes, Mr. Breede, I'll come right over...Wage slave, that's what I am...Got to beat it across to Larabee's office. More Letters. (Takes office coat, as he gets to door L.)
BULGER: What's the idea of strippin'?
BUNKER: Don't like to wear an office coat crossing the street. Principle of the thing, Max. May be a wage slave now, but if I ever do rise, I won't be a misfit..."

This pattern is unused.

Patron-Modèle 100055 - Costume Sport

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 20:00:00 +0000

1950s

Translates to "Anorak and ski pants."

The rather laconic description on the back of the envelope can be translated as:

Front-opening jacket with an applied plastron; gathered hood; ski pants.

The jacket is gathered at the waist and wrists. The ski pants have pockets, and the legs are darted and fitted to bands. Woolen or worsted fabrics would have been used for both the anorak and the pants.

I assume that your hankie and the French equivalent of a Chapstick go in the little front pockets of the anorak.

And in case anybody was wondering, we now appear to have documentary evidence that the French wore mittens.

Patron-Modèle 400934 - Anorak et Pantalon fuseau en gabardine pour homme

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sat, 31 Dec 2011 20:00:00 +0000

1950s

Translates to "Man's jacket and gabardine ski pants."

Patron-Modèle seems to have been the "house brand" for the women's magazine Lé Petit Echo de la Mode.

The description on the back of the envelope translates to:

The anorak has patch pockets and is fitted to the waist with elastic. Turned down collar; set-in sleeves. Removable hood. Ski pants.

"Pantalon fuseau" can also be translated as "pegged pants," but the intent is clear; these trousers have a narrow leg to help keep the snow out and to tuck into the ski boots, which would have looked about like this (I suspect that these laces are much later replacements.)

From www.vintageskiworld.com

It's interesting that the description indicates a fabric choice of gabardine, which is a sturdy twill fabric made of worsted yarn. The anorak would have been made out of a woolen or worsted fabric as well, and I might add a silk lining for a little extra warmth, although the pattern doesn't call for a lining.

As was true for the earlier Patron Modèle that we saw, there is no separate instruction sheet. The maker is expected to use the illustrations on the front and the description of the pattern pieces on the back of the envelope.

Note the crotch gusset for the pants, necessary for sportswear in the years before stretch fabrics were introduced.

Although there was no instruction sheet, this pattern included a one-sheet that mostly contained advertising geared to home sewing, but had a few general instructions, and a helpful sizing chart. This size 44 is equivalent to about a 38" chest.

Pictorial Review 8017 - Santa Claus Suit

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Thu, 22 Dec 2011 03:26:00 +0000

1930s.

The name "Kathryn Klahn" has been printed in pencil at the very top of the envelope. The 1930 census lists a Kathryn Klahn, age 65, as living in Clinton Iowa, so this may be one of her patterns. Mrs. Klahn got a nice early start for Mr. Klahn's - er, Santa Claus's arrival on the fire truck for the Christmas parade on the day after Thanksgiving.

I like that Pictorial calls this a Santa Claus "suit," rather than "costume."

Merry Christmas, everybody!

McCall 3495 - Men's and Boys' Undershirts

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Mon, 12 Dec 2011 03:15:00 +0000

Latter half of the 1920s.

Recent weather forecasts around here have featured "freezing fog," which for some reason sounds colder to me than "snow," so warm garments of all kinds seem like a really good idea just now, and an undershirt with an extra layer of material to keep the upper body warm is particularly attractive.

While patterns for men's undershirts are not uncommon, this is the first time I've seen this particular cold-weather design offered. Oddly, I was able to obtain two copies of this pattern in less than six months.

Note that the hip gusset is visible in the illustration. While these gussets were (and still are, in some cases) used in men's shirts and under shirts, it's a little unusual to see them shown in the illustration. McCall wasn't taking any chances - they even provided a pattern piece for the gusset, which is quite unusual. Typically only written instructions are given, sometimes indicating the size of the gusset, but sometimes just instructing the maker to cut a square of material. Hip gussets are not just a nicety - the side seams will pull out without gussets to take the strain, particularly if the wearer is engaged in strenuous work.

May Manton's 8815 - Men's and Youth's Pajamas

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sat, 26 Nov 2011 17:57:00 +0000

At a guess, 1915 to 1920.

Chilly weather is upon us, so new flannel pajamas seem like a good idea. Though one-piece pajamas are common for children, I was a little surprised to see them offered for men. The option for short sleeves would indicate that some men wore these in summer. In this case, they'd be made of a light cotton fabric.

The little chart showing chest measurement and the corresponding neck measurement is helpful to have around, since some shirt patterns at this period give only the neck measurement.

Simplicity 4683 - Men's, Boys' and Women's Apron

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sat, 26 Nov 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Mid 1940s.

This unprinted pattern dates to before 1946, as this is apparently when Simplicity started printing their patterns.

A nice, straightforward apron for the Gentleman and his Missus, who has also made Buddy a spiffy apron for his first Industrial Arts class. Why the illustrator chose to show the Gentleman wearing a shop apron but gearing up for kitchen duty is a bit of mystery. And that tiny little cookbook he's holding seems to be awfully entertaining.

Your fifteen cents really bought you a good, thoughtful design. Note that the Men's and Boys apron is darted at the sides. This will make the apron set close through the hips, which will probably make it safer by making it less likely to snag, and should also make it more efficient at keeping the wearer clean.

The handling of the shoulder straps and ties is clever. The straps will adjust to almost any size or shape and don't require any hardware to fasten:

Note that the topstitching around the pockets and the edges make this a very sturdy garment.

No fabric recommendations are given, but the aprons in the illustration surely look like chambray. Denim would also have been popular, and frequently came in the 35" width called out in the yardage requirements.

Here is the men's apron made up in denim:

Here are the side darts from the inside:

And here they are from the outside:

The instructions call for a small patch of fabric to be sewn in as a backing for the button holes on the sides. You can see that I've sewn down the patch and stitched a rectangle to outline the buttonhole. The button holes were worked by hand.

And in the event this apron ever wanders away, I've "branded" it.

In the future, I'd probably use a good-quality twill tape for the straps, rather than making them myself, since folding those narrow strips of denim resulted in a certain amount of questionable language as I repeatedly steamed my fingers.

This denim is wonderful to work with. Made under the SAFEDenim brand, it's made entirely in the United States by farmers who are trying to produce a sustainable product. Cotton is demanding of the soil and can require enormous amounts of pesticides, so producing this denim requires a lot of commitment from the farmers. I don't know where you can buy yard goods, but if you're willing to commit to a 30 yard bolt, you can buy it from the web site.

You can get a free pattern for a very similar apron from the James Thompson web site, makers of my preferred pillow ticking. (This apron would also look great made up in ticking.)

Originally posted on June 8, 2011. Additional material added to show the men's apron made up.

Women's Day 5024 - Two-Piece Apron-Dress

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Thu, 06 Oct 2011 21:51:00 +0000

January 1952

There is a lot of common sense in this ensemble designed for housework. Both the skirt and the tunic wrap to the back - the skirt ties and the tunic is closed with snaps, so no need to work button holes. Wrap garments are handy because they open flat for easy ironing. Having a separate tunic and skirt allows the maker to make up enough multiples so that she can more easily put together two clean pieces when either the tunic or the skirt becomes soiled. Both the skirt and the tunic have good, deep pockets.

In some cases Woman's Day patterns were co-branded with Advance, and the layout sheet for this one looks like Advance's work to me.

I didn't realize until I saw this pattern that Woman's Day was the house magazine for A&P stores. A&P apparently sold the magazine in 1958. I have fond memories of A&P; I recall that they smelled of laundry detergent and freshly ground coffee from the coffee grinders at the ends of the check-out lanes (When I was a very small child I found the grinders a little frightening - there was no telling when they might unmoor themselves, run amok, and attempt to eat small children.)

This unprinted pattern has been used.

Simplicity 1961 - Man's Shirt

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sun, 04 Sep 2011 19:00:00 +0000

The Vintage Pattern wiki dates this one to 1943, smack-dab in the middle of World War II. Note the obligatory sign of manliness: Mr. A's pipe.

This one shows up on eBay all the time. At any given time there seem to be at least three or four listings for this shirt. This is a good, functional pattern that will work both as a casual or work shirt, and when made up in heavier materials becomes a nice between-seasons shirt jacket (think of the old Woolrich shirt-jacs.)

Although additional research may reveal that the pattern companies limited their new style offerings during the War, I suspect that a large part of the pattern's appeal was its simplicity. The front is simply turned under, rather than having a front placket. Plackets have also been eliminated from the sleeve openings, in favor of simple facings. However, the maker of this pattern (or the gentleman) apparently preferred sleeves with plackets, because the sleeve facing piece hasn't been used, and included in the envelope are the placket and underlap pieces from a dress shirt pattern, McCall pattern 5864, along with a clipping from the pattern sheet showing how to apply these. The maker used only the upper pockets and flaps.

Simplicity still assumes that the maker may not have a button hole attachment and that hand-worked button holes may be needed.

McCall 7963 - Ladies & Misses' Blouse

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sat, 20 Aug 2011 18:43:00 +0000

Copyright 1950

The selling point for this sporty, elegant shirt is the short sleeves, which can be unbuttoned for greater ease of arm and shoulder motion.

Even though this is a relatively informal shirt, the silhouette of the day still called for shoulder pads.

(I never look this nicely turned out when I'm gardening.)

This printed pattern appears to have been used.

McCall 4202 - Men's Shirt (coat closing, detachable collar)

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Mon, 15 Aug 2011 01:02:00 +0000

After 1908, probably before 1915.

There are several things to note here:

The new(ish) coat closing style only. Pull-over shirts are available right through the 1930s and some patterns at this period offer both options, but for this pattern only the coat closing option is given.
The extremely helpful chart showing chest measurements corresponding to the neck measurements.
The layout showing the largest size (18" neck) laid out on 36" wide goods. Note the piecing of the sleeve (S) and the collar stand (R.)
The method of attaching the sleeve to the shirt body, in which the sleeve seam allowance is turned under and then fitted onto the body. This allows the sleeve to be sewn on from the outside for greater accuracy. This same technique is used when tailoring men's coats, and was used on the slightly earlier Cosmopolitan Outing Shirt.
The collar stay made up of a short length of tape with buttons sewn to it. The button holes worked in the collar are then buttoned to this stay, and it appears the (very narrow) tie lies in front of it.
The somewhat bizarre suggestion that in addition to the yardage for the shirt, one will need to get "1 Tie."

Note that the instructions are quite brief. You're expected to make your own decisions regarding interlining, seam finish, and hip gussets.

This unprinted pattern appears to be in factory folds and was an eBay find for a whopping $3.99. These early shirt patterns do show up periodically and usually go pretty reasonably. A 14 1/2" neck is on the small side, which may have been why there wasn't more competition for this one - I was the only bidder.

Pictorial Review 3160 - Ladies and Misses' Apron, Cap, and Cuffs

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sat, 16 Jul 2011 18:41:00 +0000

Mid 1920s.

Suitable for both nursing and general household service. In some cases pattern companies showed maid's uniforms in their catalogs, usually toward the back of the publication, after the night clothes and under things. It's a little startling to spend time poring over illustrations for patterns of elegant tea gowns and just a few pages later to find yourself in the territory of bungalow aprons, step-ins, and maid's uniforms.

A few years earlier in 1916, the publication Journal of Home Economics published an article entitled "Costume in the Cookery Lab," which documented the results of a 1915 survey of clothing or uniform requirements for students at colleges offering Home Economics programs. At that time some departments recommended specific commercial patterns that their students (all young women, one imagines) could use. Further research may reveal that nursing schools made the same sort of recommendations. The Journal indicates that at two institutions, their students made aprons in their sewing classes. While the students may have made their own, they may also have purchased the pattern, fabric, and findings and had their clothing made by a family member or a local dressmaker.

Pictorial patterns are wonderful quality. They come pre-cut, printed, and perforated, making them very efficient to use. This pattern has been used.

McCall 1776 - National Flag - U.S.A.

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Mon, 04 Jul 2011 07:00:00 +0000

Cosmopolitan Fashion Company 655 - Men's Outing Shirt

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sun, 19 Jun 2011 02:19:00 +0000

1898 for certain, as this pattern is listed in Cosmopolitan's Spring and Summer Catalog for that year. Patterns for utilitarian garments tend to stay in the backlist for a while, so this may have been offered a few years earlier and later.

After Universal's Working Blouse, this is probably one of the oldest patterns I own. A large number of old store stock Cosmopolitan patterns came on the market in the early 2000s and I acquired several of the more utilitarian styles. Last summer I finally had the time to start making up this shirt.

I decided to approach this as a maker in 1898 would. I assumed that the pattern was accurate and usable and that it wouldn't be necessary to make up a muslin to test the pattern. But I also decided to take some measurements in order to forestall surprises and to use inexpensive fabric.

I removed the pattern pieces from their envelope for the first time since they'd been originally packaged 112 years earlier. Both the envelope and the pattern pieces were in very fine condition. Here is what the eleven pieces looked like immediately after I'd unfolded them.

I let the pattern pieces relax overnight before ironing them with a dry iron on very low heat. This looks a little more promising:

The pieces are, from upper left and as described on the envelope: Sleeve Lap, Sleeve, Cuff, Collar, Neck-band, Yoke, Back, Front, Lap for Front and Two Pockets. And remember:

The reason for this is stated in the catalog:

The 19th century maker would have laid out the pattern pieces on the fabric and traced a solid line around them with tailor's chalk or a soft pencil. She would then cut outside this line to add the seam allowances. Because the actual stitching line has been traced in chalk, it's sufficient to cut the seam allowances by eye and trim them even during construction. She could also have marked a measured seam allowance, usually a dashed line, and cut along this line. Adding your own seam allowances also allows you to use different seam allowances for different parts of the garment, and I'll come back to this idea a little later.

I never sew with patterns this old, so I rolled out my pattern paper and traced all of the pieces.

Note that the pattern pieces are placed under the pattern paper so that they're protected. It's quite easy to feel the edges of the pieces with the tip of your pencil and be guided by them as you trace. For speed, I use a ruler for drawing in any straight lines. You can see that I've added a uniform half inch seam allowance. In fact, a better plan would have been to add half inch seam allowances for the shirt's side, yoke, and sleeve seams and quarter inch seam allowances for most of the other seams, since this would save having to trim these seams during construction.

The pattern pieces show a reasonably comprehensive set of notches and perforations.

I made up the shirt in an inexpensive chambray, one of the many fabrics recommended for outing shirts. My chambray was 54" wide, which I pre-washed in hot water. The instructions on the pattern envelope suggest that 3 3/8 yard of 36" fabric would be needed for this size 40 shirt.

Here's the layout. Can you spot the mistake I've made?

Look carefully and you'll see that I've laid out the front of the shirt along the selvedge. It should be laid out on the fold.

It's my usual practice to cut my notches as short snips and to thread mark all other markings, so I did the same here. I use two strands of darning cotton and a millinery needle to make my thread markings.

The instructions on the envelope (separate instructions sheets won't start showing up until the 1920's) describe how the pieces are put together, but the maker is expected to know what constitutes good shirt-making technique. For men's shirts the collar, neck-band and cuffs are almost aways interlined for body and sturdiness. One of my Women's Institute books recommends using the shirt fabric itself for this interlining. There is something to this. When the collar wears thin it can be discretely darned to the interlining. (When this is no longer possible the collar can removed, turned over, and re-attached. Ask your grandmother how much fun turning the gentleman's collars was back in the old days.) However, I felt that the chambray was a little too heavy to work well for this, so I interlined the collar, neck-band and cuffs with a fairly lightweight unbleached muslin. I have a cheat for doing this. I pin the cut pieces to the muslin rather than the paper pattern pieces. This means that as soon as I cut the pieces out, I'm ready to do the basting. Here I'm ready to pin the collar to the muslin.

And here is the completed basting. I don't use a special basting thread. I just examine my thread board for the ugliest color I can find and use that. Honestly, I don't know how I ended up with a spool of bright yellow thread. Using a basting needle makes this a very quick job to do.

And now I'm ready to start sewing. As much as possible, I tried to construct the shirt in exactly the order specified in the original instructions. I also wanted to do as much of the sewing on the machine as possible, for both speed and sturdiness. The outing shirt was athletic wear in its time, so it needed to hold up to strenuous activity, such as tennis, which you can just make out being played in the background of the illustration.

So here we go.

"Open the front from neck edge as far as single notch and sew the front lap to the left front by notches with the seam on outside, then fold lap over front on line of perforations. Sew a facing or underlap to the right side of the slash and close the front with button holes. Stitch the pockets to position, placing the large pocket on the left front and the small on right side."

There is no pattern piece for the underlap; you're expected to know how to take measurements of the shirt and the neck-band and cut a rectangle of the right size to allow the shirt to close correctly. To give you a sense of proportions, one of my sewing books of about the same period indicates that the front opening should be waist-depth.

There were no indications on the pattern pieces as to the placement of the pockets, so I guessed (incorrectly, as it turned out.)

"Slightly gather the upper edge of back between the notches, sew to lower edge of yoke by notches and join the side seams as far as single notches, finishing the seams with small gussets."

In the matter of the yoke I did deviate from the original instructions. I cut a facing for the yoke, both for strength and for neatness of finish on the inside of the shirt. This meant that the shirt back was sewn first to the facing. My approach to sewing on the yokes was to turn up on the seam allowances and top stitch to the shirt back. Here is the back sewn to the yoke facing. Unfortunately, I removed the hand-basting stitches before I took the photograph.

And here is a close up. The top two rows of stitching are the machined gathering stitches.

For both yokes, I machined along the seam line, notched to the line of stitching, and then pressed the seam allowance up.

Thus prepared, the yoke was then carefully basted to the shirt before being machine stitched. (Once again, I don't seem to have taken any pictures showing the basting. With the exception of the side seams, every seam on the shirt was hand basted before machining.) Here is a close up of the right side of the shirt, showing the yoke edge-stitched to the shirt back. I'm currently using a 1945 Singer treadle machine for all of my sewing. I used a short stitch length throughout the shirt.

Here is the wrong side, where the effect is of edge stitching, which attaches the yoke facing to the shirt, and top stitching, which attaches the yoke to the shirt. I was pleased with how well this came out, which I owe to the hand basting.

Although I didn't take any pictures of this, I basted the yoke and yoke facing together. This functioned as stay stitching to prevent the neck and sleeve curves from getting stretched.

The maker is expected to decide on a seam finish for the side seams. I used a flat felled seam.

The maker is also left to decide what kind of gussets she wants to use (and how large or small to make them.) My preferred way of handling hip gussets is to cut triangles. The edges are all turned under, and the base of the triangle is sewn to the inside of the shirt...

...then the tip is turned over to the right side and sewn down.

"Sew the lap to slash in sleeve by notches with the seams on the outside, then fold the lap over on line of perforations, stitch to position as indicated by corresponding perforations and narrowly hem the unnotched edge of slash."

And here is a fairly uninspiring shot of the newly placketed sleeves. The bits of tape are to indicate the right sides, as I have a real genius for unintentionally making two left sleeves or two right sleeves.

"Gather the sleeve on lower edge between the notches and stitch the cuff to lower edge of sleeve."

Unfortunately, I took only one picture of this operation. Here you see two rows of pink hand-gathering threads and one row of red thread basting the sleeve to the cuff. You can't see the cuff because at this point it's on the inside of the sleeve. After I sewed it down, I turned it over to the outside on its fold line and edge stitched the cuff to the right side.

"Sew the arm's eye to sleeve, three-fourths of an inch from the edge of sleeve, placing the seam in sleeve at side body seams (the single perforation indicating the front), and stitch the upper edge of sleeve to position."

The 3/4" offset from the edge was a real head scratcher, and I basted in the first sleeve a couple of times before I thought I had it right. What that 3/4" gets you is sufficient material to make a very sturdy felled seam. Again, remember that this shirt is athletic wear, and the sleeve seam can be expected to take a lot of stress. A shirt is ruined if the sleeves pull out, since there is seldom enough sound fabric left to make a repair. One test of a well-made pattern is the accuracy of the sleeve fit, and this pattern passed the test with flying colors. It was at this point I realized that I'd sewn the pockets in far too high, so I reset them a bit lower.

And finally:

"Stitch the collar between the neck-band by notches and the neck-band to neck by notch."

It's important to get the collar set correctly because it frames the face and thus gets a lot of visual attention. The band must be centered correctly on the shirt, and the collar must be centered correctly on the band. The collar points should spread symmetrically and be the same length.

Collars are not trivial to do well. You're working with relatively small, narrow pieces of fabric that have just enough curvature to make accidental stretching a concern. Once you're ready to attach the collar to the band, you'll be working with multiple layers of fabric and narrow seam allowances. Given the very brief instructions, it was up to the maker to have solid shirt-making skills to guide her to a happy result.

The pattern was accurately notched, but I failed to notice a very odd thing until I'd sewn the collar to the band: the collar is the same length as the band. Because the band overlaps when buttoned, this means that the collar fronts overlap as well. I don't think I've ever seen this in photographs of the period - to the contrary, the gap between the collar fronts can be quite substantial. This gap is necessary to accommodate the knot of the neck tie, and the 19th century being what it was, a gentleman might choose to wear a tie with his outing shirt. (Our model wears what is probably a soft silk neckerchief.)

On examining the original pattern pieces, I discovered that the neck band extends beyond the collar by 1/2 inch on either side, so at some point I managed to introduce an error, either in inadvertently stretching the collar or in mismanaging my seam allowances. Now that I know that overlap is an error, the solution is to rip out the collar, restitch the front edges and re-apply the collar to the band. In fact, a thrifty, thoughtful maker would have made an extra collar at the same time she did the original construction and stored it away against the day the original collar could no longer be darned or turned.

Button placement was not indicated on the pattern pieces, leaving this to the maker. Having a large stash of old mother of pearl buttons, I could afford to be generous with the buttons. I worked the buttonholes by hand. My normal method of working button holes is to work a one-stitch wide box of double running stitch, slash inside the box, and then button hole stitch all around the box, bringing up the thread for each button hole stitch just outside the double running stitches. However, a plain sewing manual of about the same period as the shirt recommended simply overcasting the cut edge and then working the buttonhole stitch, so I decided to give this a try. This approach is probably fine for a more firmly woven fabric than chambray, but my results were somewhat uneven. This wasn't helped by the fact that I simply used a doubled sewing cotton (and a fair amount of beeswax) for my stitching, as the only button hole thread I had on hand at the time is part polyester, which I don't care for.

Here is the finished product, overlapped collar, wonky button holes and all:

For a stated size of 40" chest, here are some measurements:

Circumference under the arm = 50 1/2"

Neck from center of button hole to center of button = 17 1/8"

Sleeve from center bottom of neck band at back, to edge of cuff = 32 1/2"

Circumference of cuff = 10"

Front length from bottom of neck band = 29 1/4"

Back length from bottom of neck band = 34 1/4"

Length of front placket = 19 3/4"

And what about that little pocket? My guess is that it's a watch pocket. I can tell you from personal experience that it's impossible to get your watch out of a watch pocket set into your waistband when you're seated, so putting this small pocket in the shirt would make the watch accessible while the wearer was seated riding (either a bicycle or a horse are possible for 1898) or in a canoe, for example.

And here the shirt is again, styled with my favorite red spotted handkerchief, and showing how the small pocket might have been used as a watch pocket:

Originally posted in 2009, entirely re-written in 2011, following construction of the shirt.

Pictorial Review 3701 - Boys' Overalls

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Fri, 20 May 2011 07:00:00 +0000

After 1907, but probably before the first World War.

Pictorial Review offered this pattern in sizes from 4 through 16 years. This one is a size 8 years. Boys older than 16 would be able to wear smaller men's sizes.

These overalls are the right thing to wear when helping to put in the vegetable garden. It would seem that transplanting flowers, as this young gentleman appears to be doing, is perhaps a more formal activity, requiring a beautiful spotted blouse and a tie.

Pictorial Review patterns were advertised through the Pictorial Review magazine, and like all fashion magazines, the publishers advertised the fashionableness of their offerings. But clearly somebody felt that a highly functional overalls pattern would find an audience.

A separate layout sheet is included. The patent date of 1907 is for the layout, not the style.

But the instructions are still given on the front of the envelope.

This pattern was closed with a pin, something I find now and again, most commonly with patterns before the 1920s.

Although the back of the envelope is unprinted, the back of the layout sheet offers some advertising.

McCall 8696 - Misses' and Girls' Middy Blouse

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sun, 10 Apr 2011 21:43:00 +0000

After 1908, probably before 1920.

Civilian clothing has borrowed from military design since at least the eighteenth century, and by the late nineteenth century the middy blouse (sometimes as part of a "sailor suit,") was a popular garment for children for the same reason it was useful for sailers (middy is a shortened term for midshipman;) it's relatively easy to make, can be made from stout materials, and provides good freedom of movement.

The idea that strenuous physical activity for females might be both enjoyable and healthy had only taken hold in the latter part of the nineteenth century, and suitable clothing had to be found. (1) Extending the use of play clothing worn in childhood is a logical solution.

In 1916 the American artist Helen Simpkins painted this thoughtful young lady in her middy blouse. Imagine how different this portrait would be if the sitter was wearing tailor mades or a ball gown.

http://www.carolinaarts.com/902simkins.html

1916 is also the year of this wonderful group photo, found on Shorpy, of young folks on a camping expedition. See if you can count the number of middy blouses, primarily on the girls, but in at least one case, worn by a young man.

The Eaton's Department Store advertisement in the Toronto World for April 6 1916 raved about the popularity and practicality of the middy. You could buy a highly functional middy for $1.95, or you could go for a stylish silk version for $2.95. Note that sizes were available up to 44 inch bust, so this was a garment that women as well as girls were wearing.

The middy blouse was considered so fundamental a garment that extensive instructions for making a middy are given in Clothing for Women, originally published in 1916 and republished as late as 1921. The author recommends making up the middy blouse in drill, galatea, Indian Head muslin, poplin, khaki cloth, linen, serge, or flannel.

In 1920, the Bush Magazine devoted an entire enthusiastic (but not necessarily trustworthy) article on the middy:

There isn't anything unusual about McCall's middy blouse offering, but included in the envelope is a piece cut out of a German language newspaper, possibly from the Chicago area. I've tried to match this up against both the pieces for the collar and for the front yoke but I don't see a clear relationship to either of them, so possibly this got put in the wrong envelope entirely.

(1) It's worth remembering that at the same time that middle class girls and women were beginning to be more physically active, their working class sisters were working in some pretty grueling physical conditions and didn't have time, money, or opportunity for outdoor activities.

Pictorial Review 9051 - Boys' and Men's Windbreaker

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Sat, 12 Mar 2011 15:47:00 +0000

Late 1930s.

This seems like an appropriate pattern to feature now that we move into blustery March weather. Pictorial's patterns descriptions are always cheerfully breezy sales pitches:

BOYS' AND MEN'S WINDBREAKER. A sure way to any man's or boy's heart is by making this windbreaker. He'll like either the one- or two-piece back and slide fastener closing. Elastic webbing at wrists and waist and welt pockets feature View 1. View 2 has buttoned tabs at wrists and patch pockets.

This is a later incarnation of the 1920's windbreaker we saw in Butterick 7031. By the '30s the waistline has returned to its natural position - in fact, by this time it's probably a little higher than natural. The economies of the tail end of the Great Depression that led Butterick to believe that makers might knit their own banding have given way to purchased banding and those nifty new slide fasteners.

Illustrations for men's patterns frequently show the men doing manly things. I'm not exactly sure what Mr. 1 is doing - checking his watch, or possibly a compass. Master 2, throwing a stick for his fox tarrier, illustrates a suitably rugged activity. (There was a very famous fox tarrier at this time in Asta, who shared billing with William Powell and Myrna Loy in the Thin Man movies, the first of which came out in 1934.) Smoking is one of the more popular manly activities illustrated, here seen on the back of the pattern envelope.

And in case you didn't quite get the drift from both the front and back illustrations, the illustrators take a moment on the instruction sheet to show you that this windbreaker is also suitable for fishing.

New Idea 8607 - Ladies' Bungalow Apron

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Tue, 15 Feb 2011 08:00:00 +0000

One of the pattern pieces on this one has been stamped with a date of February 15, 1918, during a period when every middle-class family aspired to own a bungalow - perhaps one of those packaged by Sears, so the term Bungalow Apron is a bit of a marketing job.

For a stated bust measurement of 40", the actual flat measurement at the bottom of the arm scyes is about 50".

Yes, it looks like a dress, and by the 1920's, the Women's Institute book Aprons and Caps acknowledges that on particularly hot days a woman may choose not to wear a dress underneath her voluminous cover-all apron (She'll still be wearing the full set of the undergarments of the day, and possibly a petticoat in the same material as the apron.) A cousin to the bungalow apron, the "porch dress" seems to show up in the 1920s. Since the one porch dress pattern I've seen called for a large amount of beautiful embroidery, I tend to think of it as slightly more dressy (informal afternoon wear) than the bungalow apron (worn when doing the morning's housework.)

To test the bungalow apron pattern, I made it up in an inexpensive cotton print fabric. The only instructions given are on the back of the envelope:

You get a total of seven sentences of guidance on construction. You're expected to know how to cut and apply your own facings, decide where to place your button holes, and, if you want to emulate the model on the left, know how to apply piping.

The original center back length would have been about 55" before hemming. Notice that you're offered the option of facing the bottom of the apron. You could either cut facing from the apron fabric or use some other fabric that you'd thriftily pulled from your scrap bag. Given the curvature of the bottom, I'd probably cut a fairly narrow facing on the bias. I cut my apron 6 inches shorter than the original and finished it with a 2" turned up hem, for a finished center back length of 47".

The layout doesn't indicate that the yoke is faced, so I didn't face mine, although if I were to make this up again I probably would. A yoke facing makes for a slightly heavier garment, but I think it's also stronger, and of course, the inside finish is nicer. Note that the layout does show you that piecing will be required. My fabric was 45" wide, and I had to piece both the front and the back. This is how the front looked once I pieced in the side gore. I flat felled this seam for strength.

Here you can see the yoke and the front laid out, preparatory to the front being gathered and sewn to the yoke.

I decided to make the short sleeved version. I thought the cuffs seemed to need a little embellishment, so I decided to finish both the cuffs and the neckline with piping, rickrack, and a bias band for the neckline, following an approach recommended by the Women's Institute in their book, Aprons and Caps.

This is a good technique. It can be done entirely by machine (except for the basting, which is really necessary) and gives a clean finish to the inside of the garment. I seem to have missed the detail that the mitered corners of the bias band are actually cut and sewn. I just left mine folded. I suppose I could slip stitch them now. I had a little trouble getting the piping as narrow as I wanted it, I think because I didn't trim it down - it was just a bit too wide to behave correctly, even though I basted it in place first.

The rickrack is from a box of trims that a neighbor of mine bought at an auction in southern Oregon. Most of the materials were in their original packages, but a few unpicked lengths were wrapped around old postcards dating to the 19-teens, so the rick-rack and the pattern are about the same age. All machine sewing is done on a model 201-K Singer treadle machine built in Scotland around June 5, 1945.

Here's the edge of the cuff:

The pattern offers no guidance on button placement. I ended up with a rather idiosyncratic placement. If I were to make this up again, I'd probably leave off that second button hole in the middle of the yoke. The buttons are vintage. I use a fairly large size button for these back-fastening aprons so that I can actually do them up. The button holes are worked by hand.

As it happens, it's entirely possible to slip into this apron without having to undo the buttons. If I make this up again, I may simply sew up the back seam and save myself the work of making the facing and the button holes.

Here you can see the piecing on both the front (the larger gore) and the back (the smaller gore.) The side and sleeve seems were flat felled for strength.

A feature that should be remembered about aprons and house dresses is that they are easy to launder; there are no fiddly bits to get torn in the washing and they lay flat for fast ironing. In a world before wash-and-wear fabrics, this is not a trivial thing.

This bungalow apron has no pockets, which doesn't seem to be uncommon for these coverall/dress aprons. Here's a pocket-less kimono "apron" (no sleeve seam) from Aprons and Caps that's very similar to the New Idea bungalow apron.

My mother has observed that her mother always wore an apron (with pockets) over her house dress.

If you're completely taken with this design, you can get your very own copy through Past Patterns. This is a tracing of an original, so comes only in that one size, but the beauty of these is that they're easy to re-size.

The pattern went together accurately, any misalignments you observe are generally the result of my getting lazy about basting.

Wrapper from the rick rack that I used

Part of the original concept for Unsung Sewing Patterns was that garments would eventually be released into the wild so that they can gain the experience (and hard knocks) that we observe on vintage clothing. This will probably be the year that I'll start doing this, so it seemed like a good idea to get some labels made up:

Originally posted on July 27, 2008. Re-posted on February 15, 2011 with revised and new content.

Butterick 1847 - Women's and Misses' Coverall, and Leggings

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Fri, 21 Jan 2011 08:00:00 +0000

Mid 1940s (World War II.)

Here's the description from the back of the envelope:

A Jumper Style Coverall, designed to give the full skirt protection that much farm work and gardening requires. Roomy pockets are conveniently placed. The front opening makes it easy to put on and take off. Knee-length leggings are included.

One of the problems that the U.S. Department of Agriculture (USDA) had to contend with during both world wars was a shortage of agricultural labor. Men who didn't enlist were recruited to work in industries supporting the war effort, making them unavailable to work their own farms or to work as hired hands. Women stepped up to fill the short fall, sometimes by enlisting in the Women's Land Army, often by taking on more responsibilities on their family's or local farms.

Overalls for women started to be marketed during World War I, and women had started wearing trousers in public in the 1930s, generally as sporty wear, so by the start of WWII the idea of women in trousers wasn't entirely new. Yet the USDA seems to have felt there was a need to offer some support for women who needed to do dirty agricultural work but weren't ready to wear trousers or overalls. A sturdy apron and leggings were apparently seen to be a workable solution. Here's a terrific image of women at the USDA designing work clothes for women at this period.

Many thanks to Jim Christensen for pointing out that this very ensemble was described and illustrated in Clarice Louisba Scott's book Work Clothes for Women, issued by the USDA in June, 1942.

By WWII "coverall" is a fairly common term for this type of apron. ("Overall" seems to have been used in Great Britain.) Patterns for leggings for girls show up throughout the '30s and '40s, usually as part of a winter ensemble including a coat and hat. This is the first time I've seen a leggings pattern for women. The option to use 1/2" studs (snap fasteners) is uncommon.

This is an unprinted pattern and does not appear to have been used.

Originally published on 21 January 2011, updated with additional documentary evidence on 23 January, 2011.

McCall 1886 Ladies' and Misses' Smock

noreply@blogger.com (andrea.at.the.blue.door) — Fri, 31 Dec 2010 08:00:00 +0000

After 1931, as this is the last patent date on the envelope.

Here's another beautiful embroidered smock from the 1930s. See McCall 4531 for a somewhat earlier and simpler smock, and McCall 603 for a late '30s offering. A price of forty-five cents makes this a somewhat expensive pattern. At this period inexpensive DuBarry and Simplicity patterns were available for 15 cents, while an undecorated smock from Vogue was available for 25 cents.

This version, with its dropped shoulder line, standing collar (View A), and "primitive" geometric embroidery motifs seems to borrow from folk or regional dress. The shaped pockets unusual.

Recommended materials include linen, cotton, silk, and wool jersey. The recommendation for silk or wool jersey is interesting, as these fabrics would require some care in laundering, moving us away from a strictly utilitarian garment even without the extensive embroidery.

The embroidery is to be executed with tapestry wool or perle cotton. The colors recommended for View A are gold, black, and white; for View B, which is made up in "natural linen," coral, purple, and bright green are used; for View C pale green, orange, and dark blue. Note that the seams and hems are all embroidered - a lot of work!

This pattern has been cut with the exception of the tie belt. The transfers are unused. We saw this preservation of the transfers in McCall 603, so while the beautiful embroidery may have been a selling point, and the buyer paid a premium price for the pattern to get the transfers, not all makers had that much commitment to their projects.