This was a long time in the making - I know just enough Illustrator to really frustrate myself when something isn't working the way I want it to. Anyway: this is the interlacing pattern I used for my previously blogged Birgitta cap. This builds on the diagram presented in the MC&T article, but the end product is a little different.
Showing posts with label techniques. Show all posts
Showing posts with label techniques. Show all posts
26 June 2013
26 November 2012
My Birgitta cap, the part that went well
I'm always looking for low-maintenance ways to keep my hair covered at out of the way at events, plus I like funky hats in general. So I've had a reproduction of the St. Birgitta cap in the back of my mind for a while now. Since I was looking for a small, portable project, it seemed like the thing to do.
References: the article in Medieval Clothing and Textiles 4 is really good - recommended reading even with all the information that's available online. Karen Larsdatter has a collection of links for period illustrations and recreations.
First up: I have a big head, apparently. My pattern piece is substantially larger than the original, at 13 x 10.5 inches on the straight sides. But based on my mock-up, I don't think I'd want it any smaller.
I pulled out a little bit of really nice finely-woven linen I'd been saving, and started by hemming the two curved edges. Then I basted those edges down in parallel lines to a very stiff piece of cotton canvas in order to keep my spacing even. The interlacing herringbone worked up pretty quickly and easily. I ended up with five threads instead of the original six, because I got one of the cross directions wrong on the first thread I laid down, which meant the interlacing only worked right for an odd number. The only point of note was that I tended to pull the later threads tighter, so the opening is pulled smaller than I intended, and the first thread looks a bit loose and wobbly.
I needed a really long thread in order to work from end to end... to long for convenience, really, and some of them weren't actually long enough - the joins look kind of bad, too. If I was doing it again I might try working out in both directions from the middle, so I only had to deal with half the length at one time. Other than that, I really like how it looks at this stage. I was debating leaving it like this, and in retrospect I kind of wish that I had. But more on that next time...
References: the article in Medieval Clothing and Textiles 4 is really good - recommended reading even with all the information that's available online. Karen Larsdatter has a collection of links for period illustrations and recreations.
First up: I have a big head, apparently. My pattern piece is substantially larger than the original, at 13 x 10.5 inches on the straight sides. But based on my mock-up, I don't think I'd want it any smaller.
I pulled out a little bit of really nice finely-woven linen I'd been saving, and started by hemming the two curved edges. Then I basted those edges down in parallel lines to a very stiff piece of cotton canvas in order to keep my spacing even. The interlacing herringbone worked up pretty quickly and easily. I ended up with five threads instead of the original six, because I got one of the cross directions wrong on the first thread I laid down, which meant the interlacing only worked right for an odd number. The only point of note was that I tended to pull the later threads tighter, so the opening is pulled smaller than I intended, and the first thread looks a bit loose and wobbly.
I needed a really long thread in order to work from end to end... to long for convenience, really, and some of them weren't actually long enough - the joins look kind of bad, too. If I was doing it again I might try working out in both directions from the middle, so I only had to deal with half the length at one time. Other than that, I really like how it looks at this stage. I was debating leaving it like this, and in retrospect I kind of wish that I had. But more on that next time...
20 May 2009
Smocked Apron, part 3
The last stage of making the apron is attaching it to a narrow waistband which extends past the edges into long ties. Between part 2 and today's entry, I hemmed the raw edges around the sides and bottom of the apron panel. Ideally, this should have been done at the very beginning of the project, before pleating, but it didn't present any problems since I purposely left a little width unpleated so that I would have room to turn a hem under.
Step 8: Stretch the smocking out to the desired width, and pin to the band starting with the two ends, then the middle, and then further subdividing to get the distribution even. You generally want a gentle amount of stretching: enough to open up the pleats, but not too much, which can cause the smocking to curl up on itself. As shown in the photo, for the initial pinning you want to pin the "valleys" of the pleats to the band, not flattening down the tops of the pleats yet. The edge of the band should be on straight grain and lined up with the top of the pleats, and at this point I haven't cut it to width yet. The band should be long enough to extend past the edges of the apron, but doesn't have to be a long enough for the ties in a single piece, as it can be pieced later.
Step 9: Once the apron panel is secured, and you are happy with the width and the way it hangs, start flattening the pleats. I try to massage each standing pleat into a tiny (inverted) box pleat, so that the 'top' of the pleat is still roughly centered, rather than falling to one side.
This top view of the same stage shows how much this compresses the depth of the smocking.
Step 10: At this point, there are a very large number of pins holding the apron to the band. You'll need to stitch these down, either by hand or machine. If doing machine stitching, work closer to the raw edge, so that it can be hidden once the band is folded over to the front. Once all the pins are out we can fold the band down to it's final width. The band is folded in the back (possibly farther from the edge than the stitching line), folded over the top and down to the same depth in the front, and tucked under for a finished edge. If necessary, trim the band to the appropriate width, and/or add additional pieces of the same width to lengthen the ties. Extend the folds to the end of the ties (basically, raw edges folded in, then folded in half again). At the very ends of the ties, fold the ends in first to hide those raw edges.
Step 11: Stitch the band to the apron, being sure to catch the folds in both the front and the back, and sew down the length of the ties for a finished apron.
18 May 2009
Smocked Apron, part 2
Part two for this smocked apron consists of the actual smocking stitches. Smocking has been described (accurately, I think) as embroidery on pleats, rather than a flat ground. And like the various other forms embroidery, smocking has it's own set of stitches. Fortunately, however, they tend to be simple (most are variants on backstitch) and they are generally worked in straight rows rather than figured designs. The stitch I have picked for this apron is honeycomb stitch, which opens up into a diamond lattice when finished.
Step 5: For thread, I am using a medium weight white linen thread (35/2). Linen thread is particularly good for smocking, as it can be pulled snugly and won't slide back when not under tension, unlike silk. In the photo at right, I have just started the first row of stitches. You can see very faint pencil lines marking the row so that I stay in a straight line; these will wash out later. Also note that I've left some unworked width at the top, because we will be attaching the top edge to a band for the apron ties later.
Here, I'm pulling the pleats apart a little to show the structure of the stitch, and how it creates the diamond pattern.
Step 6: Because I'm only using the one stitch, I just repeat it until I've filled the entire pleated area. The bottom row here is a bit sloppy - this is because the last gathering thread is actually between the two halves of the last row of honeycomb stitch, so those stitches were worked over loose folds rather than tightly organized pleats. Which is why you should always pleat a larger area than you think you need - it can be difficult to get the last row to line up correctly, and better to have extra room than run over the edge.
Step 7:Once the smocking stitches are complete, carefully snip the gathering threads and pull them out, letting the fabric relax to a natural width. If you look carefully, you can see the structure, with each of the original pleats zig-zagging back and forth.
16 May 2009
Smocked Apron, part 1
An apron is one of those accessories that can really make the look of an outfit, particularly when dressing in the style of a working woman. (They don't disappear from the clothes of richer women, until you get to very formal court attire, they just get fancier and more decorative.) Aprons aren't just for women, either, some men wore them too (cooks, feast servers, butchers, etc., as well as specialized aprons for field workers and blacksmiths). Karen Larsdatter has an good collection of images of aprons.
The particular apron I am making here is a relatively fancy smocked apron, worn by women in the late 15th and early 16th centuries. I have tried to provide enough detailed photographs of the process that it could be used as a tutorial on making a similar apron, or and introduction to smocking in general. For more detailed reference, I suggest The Art of Manipulating Fabric, which has detailed instructions on several smocking techniques.
Materials: a large square of lightweight white linen, approximately 30 inches per side. It is helpful, but not necessary, to have the top edge be a selvedge. Light and medium weights of white thread.
Step 1: The first step is to run gathering threads. They will be used to pull the fabric into straight, even pleats, and it's important to spend the extra time to get them right. These threads will be removed from the final project, and it is important that they be both strong and very smooth. Because of that, I've used a smooth-finish cotton thread, even though I'm using linen thread everywhere else in the project. Polyester is fine too; just avoid colors that might bleed.
The gathering threads are stitched in a grid pattern of running stitch. The length of the stitches determines the depth of the pleats. What most important is that the threads are in straight, parallel rows, and that the stitches line up in vertical columns, going in and out in the same place. With practice and patience, this can be done by eye, matching the weave of the fabric to keep lines straight, but it's generally easier to mark out a grid with fabric chalk ahead of time. Knot the threads so they don't pull through, but don't secure them to the fabric
Step 2:As you go, you'll want to loosely gather up the fabric onto the threads, to make sure the pleats will fold up evenly.
Step 3:You want to have enough gathering threads that the pleats are secured for the entire area you plan to do smocking over. I recommend adding at least one more than you think you're going to need (you'll see why in part two). Once all the threads are in, tie them together in pairs on one side, and then you can start gathering the fabric into tight pleats.
Step 4:As you tight the pleats down onto the gathering threads, you may need to manually adjust some of the folds to lie flat, especially down at the last row of gathering. Fingerpress the correct crease into anything that's not behaving. Once the pleats are tight enough, tie off the threads at the other side. You do really want to make it as tight as you can - you don't want the pleats to be able to slide around on the foundation threads.
The particular apron I am making here is a relatively fancy smocked apron, worn by women in the late 15th and early 16th centuries. I have tried to provide enough detailed photographs of the process that it could be used as a tutorial on making a similar apron, or and introduction to smocking in general. For more detailed reference, I suggest The Art of Manipulating Fabric, which has detailed instructions on several smocking techniques.
Materials: a large square of lightweight white linen, approximately 30 inches per side. It is helpful, but not necessary, to have the top edge be a selvedge. Light and medium weights of white thread.
The gathering threads are stitched in a grid pattern of running stitch. The length of the stitches determines the depth of the pleats. What most important is that the threads are in straight, parallel rows, and that the stitches line up in vertical columns, going in and out in the same place. With practice and patience, this can be done by eye, matching the weave of the fabric to keep lines straight, but it's generally easier to mark out a grid with fabric chalk ahead of time. Knot the threads so they don't pull through, but don't secure them to the fabric
17 August 2007
Apron dress details: herringbone stitch
The write-up for the Hedeby find lists herringbone stitch as being used to finish the top edge, and I've done likewise, as shown here. It's a slightly unusual choice, as herringbone is more typically done as a decorative stitch or in simple embroidery. Thinking about it, though, it should be a fairly effective way of finishing a single-fold edge. Because of the stitch's zig-zag pattern, the weave is held together both along and across the grain. I'll see how effective it is in practice, although my fabric isn't likely to fray in the first place.
The write-up isn't particularly clear about whether the stitch faces in or out; I've chosen to have what is normally the face of the stitch on the inside of the garment, right on the raw edge. The backside of the stitch looks like two rows of running stitch, and is nearly invisible on the exterior of the dress (picture here).
The write-up isn't particularly clear about whether the stitch faces in or out; I've chosen to have what is normally the face of the stitch on the inside of the garment, right on the raw edge. The backside of the stitch looks like two rows of running stitch, and is nearly invisible on the exterior of the dress (picture here).
17 July 2007
Catrijn's most comfortable hose
There's something wonderful about being able to pull a pattern out of the drawer, cut without making adjustments, sew it right up, and know that it's going to fit. After several years, I've finally reached that point with my hose. Which is a very good thing, as I try to replace all of my older pairs that I've worn out. Obviously, for something as close-fitting as hose, no commercial pattern can really do this - the fit really does need to be customized. But once you've got your own personal pattern, it's a glorious thing.
I've tried at least four different styles of hose patterns (and that's just the ones I remember), with various degrees of success. If you're only interested in the one I use now, skip to number 4. Note that in all cases, the leg piece is cut on the true bias.
Attempt 1 (1 piece): The first pair of hose I ever did were in an ultra-simple one-piece pattern. The one seam is down the back of the leg, under the heel and center of the foot all the way out to the toe. I think the reason I tried this approach is that it seemed like it would make fitting simpler - there's just one piece of fabric to pin on your leg while you contort yourself to try and get it to fit. In the end, though, the shortcut didn't pay off. It looks OK when you've got your toes pointed, but try to stand and walk around normally, and you'll find that there's an enormous amount of bunching around your ankle. Plus, at least in my hands, the toe area just didn't work at all.
Attempt 2 (2 pieces): The second style is a bit of an evolution of attempt 1. There's still one piece for the leg and the top of the foot, but instead of the fabric wrapping all the way around to a seam on the bottom, there's a separate sole piece, which is shaped like the outline of the foot. This is actually a pretty big improvement over the first attempt - the toe works, and they're substantially more comfortable. Unfortunately, there's still a lot of bunching around the ankle, and that neither looks nor feels good.
Attempt 3 (2 pieces): The third attempt was also a 2-piece pattern, but a slightly different one. This style, in contrast to the previous two, is historically documentable. (The citation usually given is one from an older article in Costume; the construction is good, but the article's evidence/logic for it being medieval is deeply flawed. I swear I have a better source for this style, if I can just find it...) The shape of the pieces are a bit more complex: the sole piece has extensions on each side that fold up toward the ankle bones, and these fit into a slit in the top piece, essentially forming a gusset. The main piece extends slightly under the heel before meeting the sole. This pattern is pretty comfortable, although I found that getting exactly the right shape for the pieces was a little tricky. The ankle area molds to the body nicely and doesn't bunch up. The main reason I don't use this style most of the time is that I find it goes together better by hand than by machine (and I'm usually in a hurry when I need new hose). When I have made it, I find it works best with lapped seams, rather than the more typical right-sides-together seams. Doing it this way also means you can get a double layer of fabric under the heel, pushing the fabric edges to the outside rather than having a seam directly under the heel.
Attempt 4 (3 pieces): Although this pattern has the most pieces, it's not too much more difficult to assemble, and the fit is definitely worth it. The sole piece is like the one in attempt 2, an outline of the foot. The second piece covers the top of the foot. If you put just these two pieces together, it would look a bit like a slipper or mule. The third piece is of course the leg, and it also extends to the back of the heel. This is the pattern that I use almost exclusively now. Like type 3, it is documentable - and also highly comfortable. (See Crowfoot & Pritchard's reconstruction in Textiles and Clothing c.1150-c.1450; also this extant piece said to be from the Cluny Museum.) Assembly requires a little finagling, but isn't too bad. I like to use flat-fell seams, but a zig-zag stitch enclosing the raw edges works almost as well and is quite a bit easier. My construction order is to do the back of the leg seam first, forming a tube. Second, ease the upper into the front of the leg piece. Then finally, attach the sole. As usual, you'll want to check fit and do any seam finishing between each step. The sole seam is nearly impossible to flat-fell by machine, so I either do that by hand, or do a false French seam (turn the edges in towards each other, then do a straight stitch or overcast near their fold). Roll hem the top edge, and they're done.
What I haven't talked about so far is getting a pattern that fits. The pieces I've shown are what fit me, so you shouldn't expect to just enlarge them and get something that works. What I usually do is create a mock-up in muslin (calico for the Brits) - it can be pinned and sewn to check fit, and then unpicked to store as durable pattern pieces. Write and draw on it as necessary with tailor's chalk or just a regular pencil.
The easiest piece to start with is the sole - just an outline of your foot. It should be a fairly smooth outline, and a bit bigger than your foot all the way around. How much bigger depends on how much seam allowance you like - I use about 1 cm. Most people can use the same piece and its mirror image (i.e., upside down when you lay out the fabric) for left and right, but if your feet are substantially different, you may want separate left and right patterns - just be sure to label them well. The sole should be not be on the bias; the grain should run along with the length of the foot.
The second piece is the upper. At the toe, it should match your sole piece, but it then widens as you get further back on the foot. How much it widens will depend on the height of your instep. This piece should extend fairly far back on the foot - all the way back to were it joins the leg on top, and further back toward the heel at the sides. (The historical examples seem to have a more vertical than diagonal seam here, but I really like the fit of the diagonal.) How I work the shape out it is to start pinning a piece of fabric to the sole around my foot, working from the toe to the back. As you get to the ankle, start drawing in where you think the seam should go. Take your foot out, cut with a generous seam allowance, and try again, repeating as necessary. Like the sole, I usually cut the upper on the straight grain, although it is a little less crucial than the sole if it needs to be a little off grain to fit on your fabric.
The third piece, the leg, is the hardest to describe how to fit. It's not that hard to do, but much easier to demonstrate than to write about. First: it is absolutely critical that the leg be on the full bias (45 degrees). I like to iron a crease exactly on the bias in the center of my fabric, and while I'm working, I try to keep that crease straight up and down on the front of my shin. With the fabric draped over the front of your leg, start pinning down the back. Don't worry if it's not quite right at first; there's plenty of time to smooth things out later. If you've got a helper, this goes faster, but it's possible to do on your own too. You're aiming for a fit that is snug but not tight. It does need to be a bit looser in the ankle (so you can get your heel through) and in the knee (if you're doing men's hose up to the hip). Like you did with the upper, mark where the ankle seam is going to go, so you can trim away excess fabric. Take it off and look at where your pins fall - you should be able to see at least a vague outline of your leg. Start to pencil in a smooth curve, and re-pin along it. Now try to put it on again. If you can't get your foot through, widen the leg wherever it's too narrow. At this point it becomes a repeated process - move the pins in where it fits too loosely, move them out where it is too tight. After a few rounds, you'll probably want to switch to basting the seam rather than pinning it, to get a better feel for how it will actually fit.
Once you've got something you're happy with, assemble the rest of the mock-up and try it on. You'll probably need to do a bit of adjustment on the ankle seam to get the size of the top match the size of the bottom - this is normal, and keep in mind that it doesn't need to be exact. My top always comes out bigger than my sole, and I usually just pin them together as is, with the top just sticking out a bit further past the seam. Grab a ribbon or something to use as a garter to hold it up, and walk around. Try it on with your shoes. Kneel, dance, do whatever you'll want to be able to do. Is it binding or cutting in anywhere? Is it too baggy? Now's the time to make adjustments. Stick to a long basting stitch so that it's easy to take out a seam if necessary. If you've made just one, wear it inside-out on the other foot. Will symmetric hose work, or do you need separately fit rights and lefts? Keep fiddling with it until there's no doubt in your mind that it fits. If something's not working, and you can't figure it out, get other people to look at it. The point here is to not settle for something that's going to be uncomfortable.
So, at some point you are going to have a muslin mock-up that you like. Now what? Take it apart. As you go, permanently mark exactly where the seams are (pencil stays pretty well, as does pen or a fine-tip marker). Trim the seam allowances down to what you typically use, if necessary. This is your pattern, and it's ready to go. You might want to make just one or two pairs at first and wear them for a while, to double check that everything is good with the fit. Also, know the limits of your pattern. In my own experience, I can make hose from light or medium weight linen without additional fitting, but if I wanted a pair in wool, or a twill weave instead of tabby, I'd cut with a little extra ease all around, and spend some extra time doing fitting as I assembled them.
So go ahead and be brave, it doesn't take a ton of experience to do a custom-fit hose pattern, just a bit of patience, and trial-and-error. You'll notice that there was no math or geometry involved. And the payoff is huge.
I've tried at least four different styles of hose patterns (and that's just the ones I remember), with various degrees of success. If you're only interested in the one I use now, skip to number 4. Note that in all cases, the leg piece is cut on the true bias.
Attempt 1 (1 piece): The first pair of hose I ever did were in an ultra-simple one-piece pattern. The one seam is down the back of the leg, under the heel and center of the foot all the way out to the toe. I think the reason I tried this approach is that it seemed like it would make fitting simpler - there's just one piece of fabric to pin on your leg while you contort yourself to try and get it to fit. In the end, though, the shortcut didn't pay off. It looks OK when you've got your toes pointed, but try to stand and walk around normally, and you'll find that there's an enormous amount of bunching around your ankle. Plus, at least in my hands, the toe area just didn't work at all.
Attempt 4 (3 pieces): Although this pattern has the most pieces, it's not too much more difficult to assemble, and the fit is definitely worth it. The sole piece is like the one in attempt 2, an outline of the foot. The second piece covers the top of the foot. If you put just these two pieces together, it would look a bit like a slipper or mule. The third piece is of course the leg, and it also extends to the back of the heel. This is the pattern that I use almost exclusively now. Like type 3, it is documentable - and also highly comfortable. (See Crowfoot & Pritchard's reconstruction in Textiles and Clothing c.1150-c.1450; also this extant piece said to be from the Cluny Museum.) Assembly requires a little finagling, but isn't too bad. I like to use flat-fell seams, but a zig-zag stitch enclosing the raw edges works almost as well and is quite a bit easier. My construction order is to do the back of the leg seam first, forming a tube. Second, ease the upper into the front of the leg piece. Then finally, attach the sole. As usual, you'll want to check fit and do any seam finishing between each step. The sole seam is nearly impossible to flat-fell by machine, so I either do that by hand, or do a false French seam (turn the edges in towards each other, then do a straight stitch or overcast near their fold). Roll hem the top edge, and they're done.
What I haven't talked about so far is getting a pattern that fits. The pieces I've shown are what fit me, so you shouldn't expect to just enlarge them and get something that works. What I usually do is create a mock-up in muslin (calico for the Brits) - it can be pinned and sewn to check fit, and then unpicked to store as durable pattern pieces. Write and draw on it as necessary with tailor's chalk or just a regular pencil.
The easiest piece to start with is the sole - just an outline of your foot. It should be a fairly smooth outline, and a bit bigger than your foot all the way around. How much bigger depends on how much seam allowance you like - I use about 1 cm. Most people can use the same piece and its mirror image (i.e., upside down when you lay out the fabric) for left and right, but if your feet are substantially different, you may want separate left and right patterns - just be sure to label them well. The sole should be not be on the bias; the grain should run along with the length of the foot.
The second piece is the upper. At the toe, it should match your sole piece, but it then widens as you get further back on the foot. How much it widens will depend on the height of your instep. This piece should extend fairly far back on the foot - all the way back to were it joins the leg on top, and further back toward the heel at the sides. (The historical examples seem to have a more vertical than diagonal seam here, but I really like the fit of the diagonal.) How I work the shape out it is to start pinning a piece of fabric to the sole around my foot, working from the toe to the back. As you get to the ankle, start drawing in where you think the seam should go. Take your foot out, cut with a generous seam allowance, and try again, repeating as necessary. Like the sole, I usually cut the upper on the straight grain, although it is a little less crucial than the sole if it needs to be a little off grain to fit on your fabric.
The third piece, the leg, is the hardest to describe how to fit. It's not that hard to do, but much easier to demonstrate than to write about. First: it is absolutely critical that the leg be on the full bias (45 degrees). I like to iron a crease exactly on the bias in the center of my fabric, and while I'm working, I try to keep that crease straight up and down on the front of my shin. With the fabric draped over the front of your leg, start pinning down the back. Don't worry if it's not quite right at first; there's plenty of time to smooth things out later. If you've got a helper, this goes faster, but it's possible to do on your own too. You're aiming for a fit that is snug but not tight. It does need to be a bit looser in the ankle (so you can get your heel through) and in the knee (if you're doing men's hose up to the hip). Like you did with the upper, mark where the ankle seam is going to go, so you can trim away excess fabric. Take it off and look at where your pins fall - you should be able to see at least a vague outline of your leg. Start to pencil in a smooth curve, and re-pin along it. Now try to put it on again. If you can't get your foot through, widen the leg wherever it's too narrow. At this point it becomes a repeated process - move the pins in where it fits too loosely, move them out where it is too tight. After a few rounds, you'll probably want to switch to basting the seam rather than pinning it, to get a better feel for how it will actually fit.
Once you've got something you're happy with, assemble the rest of the mock-up and try it on. You'll probably need to do a bit of adjustment on the ankle seam to get the size of the top match the size of the bottom - this is normal, and keep in mind that it doesn't need to be exact. My top always comes out bigger than my sole, and I usually just pin them together as is, with the top just sticking out a bit further past the seam. Grab a ribbon or something to use as a garter to hold it up, and walk around. Try it on with your shoes. Kneel, dance, do whatever you'll want to be able to do. Is it binding or cutting in anywhere? Is it too baggy? Now's the time to make adjustments. Stick to a long basting stitch so that it's easy to take out a seam if necessary. If you've made just one, wear it inside-out on the other foot. Will symmetric hose work, or do you need separately fit rights and lefts? Keep fiddling with it until there's no doubt in your mind that it fits. If something's not working, and you can't figure it out, get other people to look at it. The point here is to not settle for something that's going to be uncomfortable.
So, at some point you are going to have a muslin mock-up that you like. Now what? Take it apart. As you go, permanently mark exactly where the seams are (pencil stays pretty well, as does pen or a fine-tip marker). Trim the seam allowances down to what you typically use, if necessary. This is your pattern, and it's ready to go. You might want to make just one or two pairs at first and wear them for a while, to double check that everything is good with the fit. Also, know the limits of your pattern. In my own experience, I can make hose from light or medium weight linen without additional fitting, but if I wanted a pair in wool, or a twill weave instead of tabby, I'd cut with a little extra ease all around, and spend some extra time doing fitting as I assembled them.
So go ahead and be brave, it doesn't take a ton of experience to do a custom-fit hose pattern, just a bit of patience, and trial-and-error. You'll notice that there was no math or geometry involved. And the payoff is huge.
18 February 2007
In which Catrijn learns to smock
This is the hemd (chemise, shift, whatever) I'm working on to go with the green and black kampfrau gown. I've got a little under a week to get everything finished and ready to go, and it looks like I'll make it. The gown itself is finished and I've got feathers on my hat, so all that's left is this, and it mostly just needs seam finishing and hemming.
This is the first time I've done smocking, and it seems to be turning out all right. (I'm very much a learn by doing type of person.) My main reference for this was a book called The Art of Manipulating Fabric. It's a manual on a lot of very interesting techniques for shaping flat fabric into objects with volume and texture. Most of the stuff is not particularly useful for garment sewing, but some is, and it's all fun to look at. Anyway, I did three rows of gathering (dot pick-up on a 1/2 inch grid) using polyester upholstery thread (strong and slides easily). The smocking itself is done in a silk embroidery thread.
The biggest problems I had were with tension (I was nervous about pulling too tight when I started, which of course meant that things ended up much too loose) and trying to get the finished result to a particular size (in this case, to match my neck). The gathering threads are tied off at the correct length, but the smocking would relax to a longer length if they were cut out (like they would normally be) so I might need to leave them in. Either that, or go back and add additional tighter rows to stabilize it. I also need to figure out what I'm going to do for closure on it. Maybe a pair of ties at the top and bottom edge, tacked down to the first half inch or so of pleats?
This is the first time I've done smocking, and it seems to be turning out all right. (I'm very much a learn by doing type of person.) My main reference for this was a book called The Art of Manipulating Fabric. It's a manual on a lot of very interesting techniques for shaping flat fabric into objects with volume and texture. Most of the stuff is not particularly useful for garment sewing, but some is, and it's all fun to look at. Anyway, I did three rows of gathering (dot pick-up on a 1/2 inch grid) using polyester upholstery thread (strong and slides easily). The smocking itself is done in a silk embroidery thread.
The biggest problems I had were with tension (I was nervous about pulling too tight when I started, which of course meant that things ended up much too loose) and trying to get the finished result to a particular size (in this case, to match my neck). The gathering threads are tied off at the correct length, but the smocking would relax to a longer length if they were cut out (like they would normally be) so I might need to leave them in. Either that, or go back and add additional tighter rows to stabilize it. I also need to figure out what I'm going to do for closure on it. Maybe a pair of ties at the top and bottom edge, tacked down to the first half inch or so of pleats?
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