Tuesday, January 31, 2012

Possibilities, but...

...and there is always a 'but'.
The search begins for the perfect silk taffeta that will become the Boucher Pompadour gown.
I have not exhausted all my resources yet, this was merely a preliminary search.
So far, this is what I have come up with at www.puresilks.us :

Green (and I mean; holy-crap-we're-not-in-Kansas-anymore-Toto-green!) silk taffeta. This might be way too vivid for what I want, and while vivid colors did happen in 18th century fashion, this just seems too garish. it's one of those I'd need to see in person, in outdoor light as well as indoor. To me, it also seems to have a somewhat warm yellow base tone, whereas I need to stay on the cool side:

And one somewhat 'meh' option is this green shot with light blue. While much softer than it's above cousin, I'm not so sure I want a shot silk for this. Pompadour's gown in the painting does not seem to have a cross-weave color to the silk. At least to me.
Another mark against this particular silk, is the slub that seems to be showing in the photo. Dupioni is a big deal-breaker. Not only to I not like the look of it, I won't go near it for historical projects earlier than the 1950s...and I tend to stay away from the 1950s anyway:

Friday, January 27, 2012

The Pompadour Stomacher: An Adventure In Fabric Painting?


So, upon closer inspection of a clearer image of the Boucher painting (not this one), i have noticed that the ribbon used is not pinked on the length and ends. In fact it's only pinked on the ribbon ends and has a picot edge.
The ribbon is at the very least 3 inches wide, made of a silk taffeta, and a satin stripe woven through it; 3 of them near both edges.
It looks as though the stripe is a slightly pale shade, almost a champagne or silver (non-metallic) tone.

I can track down tons of this 3" wide pink picot taffeta ribbon if I really dig, but I will likely not have very good luck finding something with the above woven stripe, nor in silk.
Rayon is what you normally find nowadays, in collections of new/old store stock from the late 1920s up to the 1950s, on Etsy or Ebay. It would do more than suffice and have a similar texture and body. Even the super crisp ones right off the roll, soften a little after being handled.
If I have no luck finding the right shade of pink, rayon is dye-able.

Now, for those pesky stripes, I have an idea; fabric paint.
One of those translucent and softly pearlescent kinds by the likes of Lumiere.
Perhaps I could use some frog tape (the version for delicate projects) to mask off my stripes like a stencil, apply my paint, and once it's dry, carefully remove it.
This would (hopefully) reveal nicely spaced and evenly coated stripes along each edge that mimic a shimmering woven satin line.
As for historical accuracy; I have seen many hand painted ribbons from the 18th century and well into the 19th. So there would still be a level of accuracy in that department.

I would most definitely do a test run on a small length of the ribbon first, in hopes that when I peel away the tape, the paint on my ribbon doesn't go with it!
It's one thing to mask off a wall, but another to paint-and-pull on a somewhat slippery fabric surface.
We shall see. I may even try it this weekend on a scrap of some rayon taffeta ribbon in my stash, and I'll post the results. Be it failure or success.

Wednesday, January 25, 2012

My turn soon?


The Green?Blue?Turquoise?Teal? Mme Pompadour gown painted by Boucher.
So many people have recreated this ensemble, and while they all have their merits, I need to be blatantly honest.
For myself personally, of all the recreations I've seen (those intending to be direct replicas) there is always something amiss.
Now you might be saying to yourself, "well that's rude of you to say. Someone worked very hard on that gown and you don't have the right...".
Wrong (along with the right of free speech), this is not a post to tear anyone down.
It's one to inspire. Each recreation I have seen of this gown has been great in it's own way, and a wonderful homage to it and the woman who wore it.
I merely have my own vision as to how to go about actually *replicating* such a gown, rather than making a version of it.

The ribbon will prove a challenge; taffeta with a spaced multiple satin stripe and pinked edges all around.
Hmmm...

***Ooh, Edit time! After closer inspection, it looks as though the ribbons actually have a picot edge instead of pinking. The ends do have it, with a double scalloped pinked edge. Looks like I'm going to need to get my man to make me some pinking tools...or at least show me how.

The one thing that has stood out the most when it comes to all the versions I've seen from other seamstresses, is the color and fabric choice.
It will vary from light as a pale blue, to a dark forest green, and everything in between.
Likely this is due to all the images available on the internet, many of which have poor color and resolution, and fail at representing the colors of the original.
My guess on the fabric? It was a bluish green silk taffeta, lighter than the dark green shades I've seen it made in, but definitely more on the green side. I can already tell you that I foresee many fabric swatches in my future.

One must see the actual painting to get an idea of what the true color of her gown was,
and even the color of the paint on the canvas will have changed a little over the centuries.
When will I be able to see this painting in person? Who knows, perhaps never.
I've traveled the globe and have seen nearly all Europe has to offer in its museums, but I somehow missed this particular one.
But, I can at least allow myself a few guesses in this project. Realistically, I won't be able to claim it as a perfectly exact replica if I do attempt it. The exact weave of the silk, the exact shade of the pink ribbon, the curves of the tiny petals on each miniscule rose.
There is simply no way, unless I had an unlimited budget to have these things custom woven and created by insane artisans throughout France and Asia.

The hardest part I think, will be the ribbon that adorns the stomacher and sleeves. But if I'm crafty, and I have a few ideas, I'll be able to have this gown quite close to hers.
The other fun part; recreating the set for the photo shoot ;-)

Tuesday, January 24, 2012

Thursday, January 19, 2012

The Ever Sought After Riding Habit

Ever since I saw the film Dangerous Liaisons, the ensemble worn by the Marquis when she arrives to visit Cecile has always intrigued me. Not that I'm too sure I could pull off that color of goldenrod yellow, but I still want it:


Perhaps if I found a richer shade of gold? Bright yellows tend to make me look green :-(
However Glenn Was able to wear it, and she and I have much the same complexion and hair color. Perhaps it's just that I've never really *tried* looking for a yellow that suits me after being given a horrifically wrong lemon yellow sweater as a child. I never got over that. I looked positively ill when I tried it on to appease my relatives. And it wasn't just the look on my face. My own mother realized this instantly, and as soon as The Aunts left, we took it to the Salvation Army.
Maybe it's time to give the golden and yellow shades a try once more?

It's obviously designed from a classic 18th century riding habit, yet used as a visiting gown in this particular scene. There are various sewing patterns available that nearly mimic the one above, yet I think I've been distracted once more...
if I ever want to make a rather, shall we say, unrealistic riding habit...this would be it. Unrealistic meaning that I wouldn't want to dirty it galloping after foxes on the moor. Sitting for a portrait would be more like it:



Oh gods. The trim, the velvet, *swoon*.
I may even have a pattern for the classic riding habit on the Marquis (from Tailor's Guide), or the one in Janet Arnold's book "Patterns of Fashion 1: 1660-1860", that I can alter to resemble the red one above. I've already got the little black tricorn hat ;-)

Oh, and I'll just put this right here (more picture swoon)...http://periodmoviecaps.blogspot.com/search/label/Marie%20Antoinette

Tuesday, January 10, 2012

What is in a name...

So the spiffy new title for this blog still makes me grin.
I decided to change it to something a little more befitting of my vision and general theme here. And I admit, it's a little tongue in cheek ;-)

"The Austrian Woman" was one of the first titles the French people gave the young Marie Antoinette when she arrived in France from Austria to marry Louis, and later become queen. Some meant it as an insult (said in French, it literally translates to "the bitch"), and some meant it as a compliment. Though France and Austria were at odds, the French still had an intense fascination with the Austrians. The Viennese in particular caught their eye; their style, food, music, royalty, and general happy way of life. I'll just say that the croissant is NOT a French pastry.
The name is also a nod to my own roots; being Austrian and German myself, it's a fitting way to pay homage to my heritage.

It may sound narcissistic, but I also wanted it to convey to people more of what I do as art and living history, rather than a seamstress only making things for other people.
I'm not knocking it, commission work is still artwork, and great when you can get a well paying and easy-to-work-with customer.
I do occasional projects for others, Hence the dirndl dresses recently (and there are a few more on the way). I'm so glad and thankful for the many amazing seamstresses out there that regularly take commission work. I am constantly inspired by them.

However, I've come to the conclusion, over the last year especially, that it is not what *I love* to do when it comes to sewing on a regular basis. I do it for the artistic outlet and to live vicariously in another era through clothing.
There is still that dream of running my own deco era clothing line, but I wouldn't want to be the only one sewing :-\ That is going to take a lot of planning, money and time before it ever comes to fruition.
If that dream is ever realized, I'd love to at least outsource much of the sewing here in the USA, not China. One can dream right?

I've just landed myself a new job as well. One that will not only make me a lot less depressed over the behavior of the human race (it's not retail!), but will be making me more money. This means I won't *need* to take commissions as often to supplement my income.
I will have the money and time on weekends to just concentrate on creating couture for myself, and I'm talking some major 18th century stuff, finally!
My historical wardrobe has huge gaps in it. Mainly from living in Seattle most of my life, until over 3 years ago. Then bam, I'm suddenly in California's bay area; one of the epicenters for historical costumed events, including somewhat regular 18th century themes.
Seattle had zero, and is still lacking.
I have one early 1780s gown, and it needs to be replaced or updated in a bad way. Most of my historical wardrobe is based around the Victorian era and WWII.
This will change soon, and I'm so excited :-)

The 1850 Gown

When my gent came home for lunch today, we were able to get a few quick shots in the backyard by the lemon tree.

The fabric I used is a (dare I speak its name) polyester silk blend. I NEVER use polyester in historical sewing, but I decided that due to time and $$ constraints, this would have to do. Blends I generally have no problem with if they have a good hand/drape, the proper crispness if I'm going for a 'silk' look, and if they photograph well (as in, not looking like plastic). My preferred blends if I use them are a silk acetate, or silk cotton.

This one surprised me with how well it worked, but me being the picky type, I still wish I could've used a 100% silk. But I digress....
it's a shot taffeta in a lilac color with black on the cross grain, and has a steely effect. I chose to make the bodice separate from the skirt.
The pattern I based it off of is the Truly Victorian 1845 German Day Dress, which works well for very early 1850-51.
I cut the neckline lower, omitted the reveres, drafted split bell sleeves for it, and left the skirt alone.
Hoops were not worn until around 1855-56, so this has a very fluffy crinoline petticoat underneath.
At Dickens I wore a garibaldi blouse underneath, but left it out for the photos we took. I also made a little detachable fichu collar, to allow the dress a more modest look for daytime and while strolling about the fair.
Otherwise, this is the perfect evening or dinner gown.

The trim is self made from the same fabric, done in the Austrian 'Rosenrusche' style. When the photo viewer opens after you click on an image, right click and 'view image' to see these full size.
Please excuse the sun glare, but it does give an interesting ethereal quality to the images ;-)









With the fichu attached:

A New Year....

and a new title for this blog. I've been wanting something else from the start. the previous name just didn't have it for me, but this does. More on that later, and I also plan on making a better header image. This one is a temp for now, so stay tuned.

Also, some new photos finally.
I wasn't able to get many photos of the dress I finished for Dickens Fair this year, but there are a few obscure ones. Perhaps tomorrow afternoon, I'll get gussied up and get a few if the weather is agreeable.


With my friend Fallon, aka The Scarlett Harlot ;-)...still, not a great shot of the dress, but love the photo.