Wardrobe Architect 2: Defining a Core Style

This month, we consider what lies at the core of our style. Themes as opposed to plot or events, to use a bookish metaphor. There are a few questions, and then you distill your answers into key words and images. As always, you can download the worksheet (and read the original post & comments) on the Colette site.
Wholesome Milkmaid in 1945 (Phyllis Robins)
How do you feel in your favourite clothes? I think my favourite dress, strangely enough, is one of the plainest: brown, with a faint bleach stain at bench height. But wearing it, I feel capable, adult, set up and ready to go, prepared for everything – practical. (It may help that I like the things I wear with it: my most colourful kerchief and a harmonizing belt.)

How do you feel in not-right clothes? Itchy, uncoordinated (in colour not movement), over-exposed or shapeless; constricted – either in movement or in midsection.

Who are your style icons – what appeals? This is always a difficult one for me, because so seldom do I see anyone who dresses the way I’d like to. Pretty well never, in fact. The closest? Jane Eyre comes to mind, weirdly enough. A small, neat wardrobe, with one or two items reserved for special occasions (but I’d rather not have them all in black or grey!).
The Governess by Richard Redgrave
And then perhaps Andrea Grinberg for headwear, though her wraps are sometimes larger and more elaborate than I would feel me-ish in. Occasional items worn by the Duchess of Cambridge – although mostly eveningwear, as that seems to be the only time fashion permits the longer length I like. Other than that I mostly see things I like in historical and fantasy movies.  (Who’s with me?)

Actually, the 1840s seem to have been a reasonably reasonable time in clothing, compared to many eras: dresses mostly woman-shaped and the skirts not excessively immense. Not keen on the evening drop-shoulder, though: it’s bad for duelling (and most other things you might want to do).

What are some words for styles that aren’t quite you, though you like them?
I’m not sure of the reason behind this question, since “not quite you” isn’t what you really want to be focussing on. I suppose the ladylike suited look of the 1930s appeals, but isn’t quite me. Swashbuckling, Pre-Raphaelite, early medieval… Nice places to visit but I wouldn’t want to live there.

Brown lapin over green woolList about 15 words from last week’s answers.
long, fitted, quality, devotee, nonconformist, Melanesian, modesty, historical, kerchief, freedom [of movement], skirts, pockets, layers, waist, privacy.

Add some from this week’s answers. Neat, plain, capable, practical.

Boil down to 3-5 words.
Neat, historical, practical, quality, devotee.

And then – this is the fun bit – you go looking for 15-20 images that express these words for you. Not just images of clothing, but images generally which sum up the feel you’re looking for. You can do this online or old-school (back when cut and paste actually involved scissors and glue). I prefer old-school, but since we’re online, here’s one of mine in digital format.

Helen Allingham - Drying Clothes
Neat, historical, practical.
What words would you use to evoke your core style?

Upskilly & Stuff 1: The Kerchief

What could be a simpler beginning than a kerchief? Cut a square, hem the edges. Job done.

I’ve been meaning to make a brown kerchief for some time, all the more since I bought a dress in brown & cream and had nothing to wear with it that really went. In considering the brown fabrics in my stash, I discovered these:

Would you believe these are all from the same bolt of fabric, and purchased at the same time? At the top is the fabric as it came from the bolt; in the middle is the same fabric made up and lightly worn, and at the bottom is the same fabric made up and heavily worn. What can I say? It was only three dollars (NZ) per metre and I was a poor student.

So I’m not expecting this to hold its colour – but while it does, the middle fabric is a near perfect match for the brown of my dress. For some reason it (the fabric, not my dress) was in the form of a partially cannibalized medieval tunic. Why I made (or indeed wore) a medieval tunic I could not tell you, but there it is, and eminently fit for purpose.

Habito de s francisco
St. Francis of Assisi – patron saint of Make Do & Mend?
The next consideration is size. My head is unusually small, and my smallest kerchief (which I only use for a splash of colour on top of a larger plain one) is 45 x 50cm. So that’s the minimum for me, plus a couple of centimetres each way for the hem.

Suggestion: measure around your head, add maybe 20cm allowance for tying (or more if your fabric is thick) and make that the hypotenuse of your kerchief. Remember: the square of the hypotenuse is equal to the square of the other two sides.

My ex-tunic is about 57cm wide, so I’m going to use that as my base: trim off the old raggedy hem and start afresh, beginning by drawing a thread and cutting it square. (Information on why and how can be found here.)

Jelena Dimitrijevna Polenova 1850-1898 - Zehlirka
Full disclosure: I also got out the iron and pressed the rumpled edges down – despite it being 27*C – because I have reached the age where I like to take my time and do the job properly in all its details. If you’re not fussy about things coming out just so, then feel free to skip that step – just don’t blame me if the results are a little more slapdash than you were anticipating.

So, I’ve squared my edge, I’ve pressed it, and I’ve cut out my square. Now, technically, I already have a kerchief here, but it isn’t finished. There may be some who like the frayed look of an unfinished edge – yes? Raise your hand… and smack yourself firmly round the head with it and promise to reform hereafter. An unfinished edge is not only a fraying and falling apart edge with a short life span ahead of it, it is distressed. What kind of monster wishes to distress the poor fabric? Be kind; finish it properly.Fig. 8. Hemming-stitchNow for the hem. My fabric’s middling thickness, so I’m going to do a simple double-fold hem. If it were thinner, I’d do a rolled/handkerchief hem by hand, but it would be too bulky with this fabric – it’s bulky enough as is, since I’m doing a narrowish hem to keep as much width in the kerchief as possible. Pressing with an iron is an option here, too, but I just use a firm finger-press unless the fabric’s being obstinate, followed by a series of pins.

I was originally planning to sew this by machine (I even oiled the machine specially) but then I discovered I didn’t have any thread which matched closely enough. So I’m doing a blind stitch hem, which comes out almost invisible on both sides – although how invisible remains to be seen when the fabric fades.

Here’s what it looks like on the wrong side:

The background (at top) is the dress  – good match, isn’t it? My apologies for the blurriness – the camera phone doesn’t seem keen on close-ups. Here’s what the right side looks like (and this time, please note, the kerchief is at the top and the dress at the bottom):

The finished kerchief measures 57 x 56cm. Quite how this happened, considering the beginning measurements, I do not know. I assume it has something to do with flattening out the edges (formerly wedged against seams) with the iron.

But finished it is! The first step on the Upskilly & Stuff ladder has been taken; measuring, cutting, pressing, pinning and hemming have all happened, and a wearable garment is complete.

Next month: the apron!
In the meantime, I’d love to hear what you’ve been making – feel free to leave a comment below.

Please note: if you are unable to find the comment section, click on the post title. You’ll be taken to the full-width post page with comment section at end.

That Useful Square of Cloth

He gave her hand one firm shake and then pulled a large handkerchief out of his pocket.
You have a handkerchief?” Lily asked.
“What? They’re useful–bandage, sling, bag, garrotte…”

Mariana de Neoburgo reina de Espana
Look at the size of her handkerchief! She is clearly planning something…
“Blowing your nose?” Lily suggested.
“How much use is a cloth covered in snot? Turn around.”
“Why?”
“So I can tie this over your eyes.” He did so, deftly and firmly, leaving her ears unmuffled. “Now, aren’t you glad I didn’t blow my nose on it?”
She was, but refused to say so.

Restoration Day, Deborah Makarios